CHOPIN 


AND 


OTHER  MUSICAL  ESSAYS 


CHOPIN 


AND 


OTHER   MUSICAL    ESSAYS 


BY 


HENRY  T.  FINCK 

H 

AUTHOR  OF  "ROMANTIC  LOVE  AND  PERSONAL  BEAUTY' 


NEW   YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1910 


ML{,o 


rt « 


c 


Copyright,  1889,  »t 
OHAKLES  SCBIBNER'S  SONS 

MUSIC  LIBRARY 

University  cjf  California 

Berkeley 


ECTFULLY  DEDICATED  TO 

MRS.   JEANNETTE  M.   THURBER 


211671 


CONTENTS 


L  Chopin,  the  Greatest  Genius  op  the  Pi- 

^«_— -^  ANOPORTE, 1 

IL  How  Composers  Work, 59 

III.  Schumann,  as  Mirrored  in  His  Letters,     .  Ill 

IV.  Music  and  Morals, 141 

V.    IT  ALT  AN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES,  .  .   183 

VL  German  Opera  in  New  York,        .       .       .  233 


I 

CHOPIN 


CHOPIN 

THE  GREATEST  GENIUS  OF   THE   PIANOFORTE 

Leipsic,  the  centre  of  the  world's  music  trade,  ex- 
ports about  one  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
music  to  America  every  year.  I  do  not  know  how 
much  of  this  sum  is  to  be  placed  to  the  account  of 
Chopin,  but  a  leading  music  dealer  in  New  York  told 
me  that  he  sold  three  times  as  many  of  Chopin's  com- 
positions as  of  any  other  romantic  or  classical  com- 
poser. This  seems  to  indicate  that  Chopin  is  popu- 
lar. Nevertheless,  I  believe  that  what  Liszt  wrote  in 
1850,  a  year  after  the  death  of  Chopin — that  his 
fame  was  not  yet  as  great  as  it  would  be  in  the  fut- 
ure— is  as  true  to-day  as  it  was  forty  years  ago. 
Chopin's  reputation  has  been  constantly  growing, 
and  yet  many  of  his  deepest  and  most  poetic  com- 
positions are  almost  unknown  to  amateurs,  not  tc 
speak  of  the  public  at  large.  A  few  of  his  least 
characteristic  pieces  are  heard  in  every  parlor,  gen- 
erally in  a  wofully  mutilated  condition,  but  some  of 
his  most  inspired  later  works  I  have  never  heard 
played  either  in  private   or  in  the   concert  hall, 


4  CHOPIN 

although  I  am  sure  that  if  heard  there  they  would 
be  warmly  applauded. 

There  is  hardly  a  composer  concerning  whom  so 
many  erroneous  notions  are  current  as  concerning 
Chopin,  and  of  all  the  histories  of  music  I  have  seen 
that  of  Langhans  is  the  only  one  which  devotes  to 
Chopin  an  amount  of  space  approximately  propor- 
tionate to  his  importance.  One  of  the  most  absurd 
of  the  misconceptions  is  that  Chopin's  genius  was 
born  in  full  armor,  and  that  it  did  not  pass  through 
several  stages  of  development,  like  that  of  other 
composers.  Chopin  did  display  remarkable  origi- 
nality at  the  very  beginning,  but  the  apparent  ma- 
turity of  his  first  published  works  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  he  destroyed  his  earliest  efforts  and  disowned 
those  works  which  are  known  as  posthumous,  and 
which  may  have  created  confusion  in  some  minds  by 
having  received  a  higher  "  opus  "  number  than  his 
last  works. 

Another  misconception  regarding  Chopin  is  that 
his  latest  works  are  morbid  and  unintelligible.  The 
same  charge  was  brought  by  philistines  against  the 
best  works  of  Beethoven,  Schumann,  and  Wagner. 
The  fact  is  that  these  last  works  are  of  an  almost 
matchless  harmonic  depth  and  originality,  as  su- 
perior to  his  earlier  works  as  Wagner's  last  music 
dramas  are  to  his  first  operas.  I  make  this  compari- 
son with  Wagner  advisedly  because,  although  I  have 


CHOPIN  3 

the  most  exalted  notions  of  Wagner's  grandeur  and 
importance,  I  do  not  for  a  moment  hesitate  to  say 
that  in  his  own  sphere  Chopin  is  quite  as  original 
and  has  been  almost  as  revolutionary  and  epoch- 
making  as  Wagner.  Schumann  was  the  first  to 
recognize  the  revolutionary  significance  of  Chopin's 
style.  "Chopin's  works,"  he  says,  "are  cannons 
buried  in  flowers ; "  and  in  another  place  he  declares 
that  he  can  see  in  "  Chopin's  G  minor  Nocturne  a 
terrible  declaration  of  war  against  a  whole  musical 
past."  Chopin,  himself,  modest  as  he  was  in  his 
manners,  wrote  to  his  teacher  Eisner,  in  1831,  when 
he  was  twenty-two  years  of  age :  "  Kalkbrenner  will 
not  be  able  to  break  my  perhaps  bold  but  noble  de- 
termination to  create  a  new  epoch  in  art." 

Now,  why  has  the  world  been  so  slow  in  recog- 
nizing that  Chopin  stands  in  the  very  front  rank  of 
creative  musicians?  One  reason  doubtless  is  that 
he  was  so  quiet  and  retiring  in  his  personal  disposi- 
tion. His  still,  small  voice  was  lost  in  the  din  of 
musical  warfare.  He  warmly  defended  the  princi- 
ples of  the  romantic  school,  if  necessary,  and  had 
decided  opinions  of  other  musicians,  especially  of 
the  popular  pianists  of  his  day  who  vitiated  the 
public  taste  with  their  show  pieces ;  but  he  generally 
kept  them  to  himself  or  confided  them  only  to  his 
friends,  whom  he  even  occasionally  implored  to  keep 
them  secret.    Had  he,  like  Richard  Wagner,   at- 


6  CHOPIN 

tacked  everybody,  right  and  left,  who  stood  in  the 
way  of  the  general  recognition  of  his  genius,  his 
cause  would  have  doubtless  assumed  greater  prom- 
inence in  the  eyes  of  the  public,  even  though  the 
parlor  piano  does  not  afford  so  much  play-ground 
for  warfare  as  the  operatic  stage. 

The  chief  reason,  however,  why  musical  authori- 
ties have  so  long  hesitated  to  acknowledge  that 
Chopin  is  one  of  the  very  greatest  explorers  and  pi- 
oneers in  the  domain  of  their  art,  is  to  be  found  in 
what,  for  want  of  a  better  term,  may  be  called  aes- 
thetic Jumboism.  When  the  late  lamented  Jumbo 
was  in  New  York  he  attracted  so  much  attention 
that  his  colleagues,  although  but  little  inferior  in 
size,  had  "  no  show  "  whatever.  Everybody  crowded 
around  Jumbo,  stuffing  him  with  bushels  of  oranges 
and  apples,  while  the  other  elephants  were  entirely 
ignored.  As  elephants  are  intelligent  animals,  is  it 
not  probable  that  Pilot,  the  next  in  size  to  Jumbo, 
went  mad  and  had  to  be  shot  because  he  was  jealous 
of  the  exclusive  attentions  bestowed  on  his  rival  ? 
In  aesthetics,  this  Jumboism,  this  exaggerated  de- 
sire for  mammoth  dimensions,  seems  to  be  a  trait 
of  the  human  mind  which  it  is  difficult  to  eradicate. 
It  is  a  suggestive  fact  that  the  morbid,  sham  aesthe- 
ticism  which  prevailed  in  England  a  few  years  ago, 
chose  for  its  symbol  the  uncouth  sunflower.  And 
many  who  know  that  a  sunflower  is  less  beautiful 


CHOPIN  7 

and  fragrant  than  a  violet,  will  nevertheless,  on  vis- 
iting a  picture  gallery,  give  most  of  their  attention 
to  the  large  canvases,  though  the  smaller  ones  may 
be  infinitely  more  beautiful.  It  cannot  be  said  that 
the  critics  of  art  or  literature  follow  the  popular  dis- 
position to  measure  genius  with  a  yard-stick  ;  but 
in  music  there  seems  to  be  a  general  tendency  to  do 
this.  Liszt  remarks,  apropos,  in  his  work  on  Cho- 
pin :  "  The  value  of  the  sketches  made  by  Chopin's 
extremely  delicate  pencil  has  not  yet  been  acknowl- 
edged and  emphasized  sufficiently.  It  has  become 
customary  in  our  days  to  regard  as  great  compos- 
ers only  those  who  have  written  at  least  half  a  dozen 
operas,  as  many  oratorios,  and  several  symphonies." 
Even  Schumann,  and  Eisner,  Chopin's  teacher, 
seem  to  have  been  affected  a  little  by  this  irrational 
way  of  looking  at  music.  Schumann,  in  a  compli- 
mentary notice  of  Chopin's  nocturnes,  expresses  his 
regrets  that  the  composer  should  confine  himself  so 
strictly  to  the  pianoforte,  whereas  he  might  have 
influenced  the  development  of  music  in  all  its 
branches.  He  adds,  however,  on  second  thought, 
that  "  to  be  a  poet  one  need  not  have  written  pon- 
derous volumes  ;  one  or  two  poems  suffice  to  make 
a  reputation,  and  Chopin  has  written  such."  Eis- 
ner who  was  unusually  liberal  in  his  views  of  art, 
and  who  discovered  and  valued  his  pupil's  original- 
ity long  before  Schumann  did,  nevertheless  bowed 


8  CHOPIN 

before  the  fetish  of  Jumboism  in  so  far  as  to  write 
to  Chopin  in  Paris  that  he  was  anxious,  before  he 
departed  this  Vale  of  Tears,  to  hear  an  opera  from 
his  pen,  both  for  his  benefit,  and  for  the  glory  of 
his  country.  Chopin  took  this  admonition  to  heart 
sufficiently  to  ask  a  friend  to  prepare  for  him  a  li- 
bretto ;  but  that  is  as  far  as  the  project  ever  went 
Chopin  must  have  felt  instinctively  that  his  indi- 
vidual style  of  miniature  painting  would  be  as  inef- 
fective on  the  operatic  stage,  where  bold,  oZ  fresco 
painting  is  required,  as  his  soft  and  dreamy  playing 
would  have  been  had  he  taken  his  piano  from  the 
parlor  and  placed  it  in  a  meadow. 

Besides  Chopin's  abhorrence  of  musical  warfare 
and  his  avoidance  of  the  larger  and  more  imposing 
forms  of  the  opera,  symphony,  and  oratorio,  there 
were  other  causes  which  retarded  the  recognition 
of  his  transcendent  genius.  The  unprecedented 
originality  of  his  style,  and  the  distinct  national 
coloring  of  his  compositions,  did  not  meet  with  a 
sympathetic  appreciation  in  Germany  and  Vienna, 
when  he  first  went  there  to  test  his  musical  powers. 
Some  of  the  papers  indeed  had  a  good  word  for 
him,  but,  as  in  the  case  of  Liszt  and  later  of  Ru- 
binstein, it  was  rather  for  the  pianist  than  for  the 
composer.  On  his  first  visit  to  Vienna  he  was  great- 
ly petted,  and  he  found  it  easy  to  get  influential 
friends  who  took  care  that  his  concerts  should  be 


ME 

UNWeRSJTY 

]_^X~^  CHOPIN  9 

a  success,  because  he  played  for  their  benefit,  asking 
no  pecuniary  recompense.  But  when,  some  years 
later,  he  repeated  his  visit,  and  tried  to  play  for  his 
own  pecuniary  benefit,  the  influential  friends  were 
invisible,  and  the  concert  actually  resulted  in  a  de- 
ficit. 

Chopin's  letters  contain  unmistakable  evidence  of 
the  fact  that,  with  some  exceptions,  the  Germans 
did  not  understand  his  compositions.  At  his  first 
concert  in  Vienna,  he  writes,  "  The  first  allegro  in 
the  F  minor  concerto  (not  intelligible  to  all)  was 
indeed  rewarded  with  *  Bravo!'  but  I  believe  this 
was  rather  because  the  audience  wished  to  show 
that  they  appreciated  serious  music  than  because 
they  were  able  to  follow  and  appreciate  such  music." 
And  regarding  the  fantasia  on  Polish  airs  he  says 
that  it  completely  missed  its  mark  :  "  There  was  in- 
deed some  applause  by  the  audience,  but  obviously 
only  to  show  the  pianist  that  they  were  not  bored." 
The  ultra-Germans,  he  writes  in  another  letter,  did 
not  appear  to  be  quite  satisfied  ;  and  he  relates  that 
one  of  these,  on  being  asked,  in  his  presence,  how 
he  liked  the  concert,  at  once  changed  the  subject  of 
conversation,  obviously  in  order  not  to  hurt  his  feel- 
ings. In  a  third  letter,  in  which  he  gives  his  pa- 
rents an  account  of  his  concert  in  Breslau,  in  1830, 
he  says  that,  "With  the  exception  of  Schnabel, 
whose  face  was  beaming  with  pleasure,  and  who 


10  CHOPIN 

patted  me  on  the  shoulder  every  other  moment, 
none  of  the  other  Germans  knew  exactly  what  tc 
make  of  me ; "  and  he  adds,  with  his  delicious  irony, 
that  "  the  connoisseurs  could  not  exactly  make  out 
whether  my  compositions  really  were  good  or  onlj 
seemed  so." 

Criticisms  culled  from  contemporary  newspaper 
notices  and  other  sources  emphasize  the  fact  that 
the  Germans  were  at  that  time  blind  to  the  tran- 
scendent merits  of  Chopin's  genius.  The  pro- 
fessional critics,  after  their  usual  manner,  found 
fault  with  the  very  things  which  we  to-day  admire 
most  in  him — the  exotic  originality  of  the  style,  and 
the  delightful  Polish  local  color  in  which  all  his 
fabrics  are  "  dyed  in  the  wool,"  as  it  were.  How 
numerous  these  adverse  criticisms  were,  may  best 
be  inferred  from  the  frequency  with  which  Schu- 
mann defended  Chopin  in  his  musical  paper  and 
sneered  at  his  detractors.  "It  is  remarkable,"  he 
writes,  "  that  in  the  very  droughty  years  preceding 
1830,  in  which  one  should  have  thanked  Heaven 
for  every  straw  of  superior  quality,  criticism,  which 
it  is  true,  always  lags  behind  unless  it  emanates  from 
creative  minds,  persisted  in  shrugging  its  shoulders 
at  Chopin's  compositions — nay,  that  one  of  them 
had  the  impudence  to  say  that  all  they  were  good 
for  was  to  be  torn  to  pieces."  In  another  article, 
after  speaking  in  the  most  enthusiastic  terms  of 
I 


CHOPIN  11 

Chopin's  trio,  in  which  "every  note  is  music  and 
life,"  he  exclaims,  "Wretched  Berlin  critic,  who  has 
no  understanding  for  these  things,  and  never  will 
have — poor  fellow ! "  And  seven  years  later,  in 
1843,  he  writes,  with  fine  contempt  for  his  critical 
colleagues,  that  "for  the  typical  reviewers  Chopin 
never  did  write,  anyway."  And  this,  be  it  remem- 
bered, was  only  six  years  before  Chopin's  death. 

Not  a  few  of  the  composers  and  composerlings  of 
the  period  joined  the  professional  critics  in  their  de- 
preciation of  Chopin's  works.  Field  called  his  "  a 
talent  of  the  sick  chamber. "  Moscheles,  while  ad- 
mitting Chopin's  originality,  and  the  value  of  his 
pianistic  achievements,  confessed  that  he  disliked 
his  "harsh,  inartistic,  incomprehensible  modula- 
tions," which  often  appeared  "  artificial  and  forced  " 
to  him — these  same  modulations  which  to-day  tran- 
sport us  into  the  seventh  heaven  of  delight !  Men- 
delssohn's attitude  toward  Chopin  was  somewhat  va- 
cillating. He  defended  him  in  a  letter  against  his 
sister's  criticisms,  and  assured  her  that  if  she  had 
heard  some  of  Chopin's  compositions  "  as  he  himself 
played  them  "  for  him,  she  too  would  have  been  de- 
lighted. He  adds  that  Chopin  had  just  completed 
"  a  most  graceful  little  nocturne,"  of  which  he  re- 
membered much,  and  was  going  to  play  it  for  his 
brother  Paul.  Nevertheless,  he  did  not  recommend 
the   pupils   at  the  Leipsic  Conservatory  to  study 


L 


12  CHOPIN 

Chopin's  works,  and  various  utterances  of  his  are  on 
record  showing  that  he  had  a  decided  artistic  anti- 
pathy for  the  exotic  products  of  Chopin's  pen.  To 
give  only  one  instance.  In  one  of  the  letters  to 
Moscheles,  first  printed  in  Scribner's  Magazine  for 
February,  1888,  he  complains  that  "  a  book  of  ma- 
zurkas by  Chopin,  and  a  few  new  pieces  of  his  are 
so  mannered  that  they  are  hard  to  stand." 

I  have  dwelt  so  much  on  the  attitude  of  the  Ger- 
mans toward  Chopin,  because  I  am  convinced  that 
in  this  attitude  lies  one  of  the  main  reasons  why  no 
one  has  hitherto  dared  to  place  him  in  the  front 
rank  of  composers,  side  by  side  with  Bach,  Beetho- 
ven, and  Wagner.  For  the  Germans  are  the  tonan- 
gebende  (the  standard-setting)  nation  in  music  to- 
day, and,  as  there  seems  to  be  a  natural  antipathy 
between  the  Slavic  and  the  Teutonic  mind,  the  Ger- 
mans are  apt,  like  Mendelssohn,  to  regard  as  man- 
nerism what  is  simply  the  exotic  fragrance  which  be- 
trays a  foreign  nationality.  The  ultro-Teutons  still 
persist  in  their  depreciation  of  Chopin.  In  the  lat- 
est edition  of  Brockhaus's  "Conservations-Lexicon" 
we  read,  apropos  to  Chopin's  larger  works,  that 
"  he  was  deficient  in  the  prof ounder  musical  attain- 
ments" (!)  Dr.  Hanslick,  generally  considered  the 
leading  German  critic  of  the  period,  in  a  534-page 
collection  of  criticisms,  discussing  twenty  concert 
seasons  in  Vienna,  has  only  about  half  a  dozen  and  by 


CHOPIN  13 

no  means  complimentary  references  to  Chopin.  And 
even  the  late  Louis  Ehlert,  in  his  appreciative  essay 
on  Chopin,  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  Chopin  is 
certainly  not  to  be  ranked  with  such  giants  as  Bach 
and  Beethoven.  This  is  Teutonism,  pure  and  sim- 
ple. No  doubt  Chopin  is,  in  some  respects,  inferior 
to  Bach  and  Beethoven,  but  in  other  respects  he  is 
quite  as  unquestionably  superior  to  them.  He  wrote 
no  mammoth  symphonies,  but  there  is  a  marvellous 
wealth  and  depth  of  ideas  in  his  smaller  works — 
enough  to  supply  half  a  dozen  ordinary  symphony 
and  opera  writers  with  ideas  for  a  lifetime.  His 
works  may  be  compared  to  those  men  of  genius  in 
whose  under-sized  bodies  dwelt  a  gigantic  mind. 

Schumann  appears  to  have  been  the  only  contem- 
porary composer  who  did  not  underrate  Chopin. 
Whether  he  would  have  gone  so  far  as  to  rank  him 
with  the  greatest  of  the  German  composers,  I  cannot 
say,  for  he  avoids  direct  comparisons.  But  if  imi- 
tation is  the  sincerest  form  of  flattery,  then  Schu- 
mann flattered  Chopin  more  than  any  other  master, 
for  his  pianoforte  works  are  much  more  in  the  man- 
ner of  Chopin  than  of  Bach  or  Beethoven.  I  do  not 
mean  direct  imitation,  but  that  unconscious  adop- 
tion of  Chopin's  numerous  innovations  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  piano  and  of  musical  style,  which  are 
better  evidence  of  influence  than  the  borrowing  of 
an  idea  or  two.     He  himself  testified  to  the  "  inti- 


14  CHOPIN 

mate  artistic  relations "  between  him  and  Chopin. 
Moreover,  his  praise  of  Chopin  is  always  pitched  in 
such  a  high  key  that  it  would  seem  as  if  praise 
could  no  higher  go.  It  was  he  who  first  proclaimed 
Chopin's  genius  authoritatively,  and  to  this  fact  he 
often  referred  subsequently,  with  special  pride. 
The  very  first  article  in  his  volumes  of  criticisms  is 
devoted  to  Chopin's  variations  on  "La  Ci  Darem'," 
published  as  "opus  2."  In  those  days,  Schumann 
used  to  give  his  criticisms  a  semi-dramatic  form. 
On  this  occasion  he  represents  his  alter  ego,  Euse- 
bius,  as  rushing  into  the  room  with  a  new  composi- 
tion, and  the  exclamation  "  Hats  off,  gentlemen  !  a 
genius  ! "  He  then  analyzes  the  variations  in  glow- 
ing poetic  language  and  rapturously  exclaims  at  the 
end  that  "  there  is  genius  in  every  bar."  And  this 
was  only  one  of  the  early  works  of  Chopin,  in 
which  he  has  by  no  means  attained  his  full  powers. 
Of  another  quite  early  work,  the  second  concerto, 
he  writes  that  it  is  a  composition  "  which  none  of 
us  can  approach  except  it  be  with  the  lips  to  kiss 
the  hem  ; "  and  later  on,  the  Preludes,  the  most  in- 
spired of  his  works,  led  Schumann  to  exclaim  that 
Chopin  "  is  and  remains  the  boldest  and  noblest 
artistic  spirit  of  the  time." 

Schumann  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  induce 
any  of  his  countrymen  to  endorse  his  exalted  opin- 
ion of  Chopin,   but  the  Hungarian  Liszt  joined 


CHOPIN  15 

hands  with  him  heartily,  and  pronounced  Chopin 
" an  artist  of  the  first  rank."  "His  best  works,"  he 
says,  "contain  numerous  combinations  of  which  it 
must  be  said  that  they  did  nothing  less  than  cre- 
ate an  epoch  in  the  treatment  of  musical  style. 
Bold,  brilliant,  enchanting,  his  pieces  conceal  their 
depth  behind  so  much  grace,  their  erudition  behind  so 
much  charm,  that  it  is  difficult  to  emancipate  one's 
self  from  their  overpowering  magic  and  estimate 
them  according  to  their  theoretic  value.  This  fact 
is  already  recognized  by  some  competent  judges, 
and  it  will  be  more  and  more  generally  realized 
when  the  progress  made  in  art  during  the  Chopin 
epoch  is  carefully  studied." 

That  Eisner^  Chopin's  teacher,  detected  his  pupil's 
originality,  has  already  been  stated.  Fortunately 
he  allowed  it  a  free  rein  instead  of  trying  to  check 
and  crush  it,  as  teachers  are  in  the  habit  of  doing. 
But  there  are  some  passages  in  Chopin's  early  letters 
which  seem  to  indicate  that  the  general  public  and 
the  professional  musicians  in  his  native  Poland  were 
not  so  very  much  in  advance  of  the  Germans  in  re- 
cognizing his  musical  genius.  Liszt  doubts  whether 
Chopin's  national  compositions  were  as  fully  appre- 
ciated by  his  countrymen  as  the  work  of  native 
poets ;  and  Chopin  writes  to  a  friend,  apropos  of  his 
second  concert  at  Warsaw :  "  The  ttite  of  the  musical 
world  will  be  there ;  but  I  have  little  confidence  in 


16  CHOPIN 

their  musical  judgment — Eisner  of  course  excepted." 
Elsewhere  he  complains  of  a  patriotic  admirer  who 
had  written  that  the  Poles  would  some  day  be  as 
proud  of  Chopin  as  the  Germans  were  of  Mozart. 
And  when  in  addition  to  this  the  editor  of  a  local 
paper  told  him  he  had  in  type  a  sonnet  on  him, 
Chopin  was  greatly  alarmed,  and  begged  him  not 
to  print  it ;  for  he  knew  that  such  homage  would 
create  envy  and  enemies,  and  he  declared  that  after 
that  sonnet  was  published  he  would  not  dare  to  read 
any  longer  what  the  papers  said  about  him. 

Chopin's  want  of  confidence  in  the  judgment  of 
his  countrymen  showed  that,  after  all,  the  national 
Polish  element  in  his  compositions  was  not  the  main 
cause  why  they  were  not  rated  at  once  at  their  true 
value.  It  was  their  novelty  of  form,  harmonic  depth 
and  freedom  of  modulation,  that  made  them  for  a 
long  time  caviare  to  the  general.  This  was  again 
proved  when  he  went  to  Paris.  Chopin  was  a  Pole 
only  on  his  mother's  side,  his  father  having  been  a 
Frenchman,  who  had  emigrated  to  Poland.  It 
might  have  been  supposed,  therefore,  that  there 
would  be  a  French  element  in  Chopin's  genius 
which  would  make  it  palatable  to  the  Parisians. 
But  this  did  not  prove  to  be  the  case.  In  the  re- 
markable group  of  musicians,  poets,  and  artists  who 
were  assembled  at  that  time  in  Paris,  and  who  mu- 
tually inspired  one  another — a  group  which  included 


OHOPIN  17 

Liszt,  Meyerbeer,  Hiller,  Mendelssohn,  Berlioz, 
Heine,  George  Sand,  the  Countess  D'Agoult,  Dela- 
croix, etc. — there  were  no  doubt  not  a  few  who  knew 
what  a  rare  genius  their  friend  Chopin  was.  George 
Sand  wrote  in  her  autobiography  :  "  He  has  not 
been  understood  hitherto,  and  to  the  present  day 
he  is  underestimated.  Great  progress  will  have  to 
be  made  in  taste  and  in  the  appreciation  of  music 
before  it  will  be  possible  for  Chopin's  work  to  be- 
come popular."  Heine  also  wrote  that  his  favorite 
pianist  was  Chopin,  "who,  however,"  he  adds,  "is 
more  of  a  composer  than  a  virtuoso.  When  Chopin 
is  at  the  piano  I  forget  all  about  the  technical  side 
of  playing  and  become  absorbed  in  the  sweet  pro- 
fundity, the  sad  loveliness  of  his  creations,  which  are 
as  deep  as  they  are  elegant.  Chopin  is  the  great  in- 
spired tone-poet  who  properly  should  be  named  only 
in  company  with  Mozart,  Beethoven,  and  Rossini/* 
But  aside  from  these  select  spirits  and  a  small  cir- 
cle of  aristocratic  admirers,  mostly  Poles,  Chopin 
was  not  understood  by  the  Paris  public.  At  first 
he  could  not  even  make  his  living  there,  and  was  in 
consequence  on  the  point  of  emigrating  to  America 
when  a  friend  dragged  him  to  a  soiree  at  Roths- 
child's, where  his  playing  was  so  much  admired  that 
he  was  at  once  engaged  as  a  teacher  by  several 
ladies  present.  In  a  very  short  time  he  became  the 
fashionable  teacher  in  aristocratic  circles,  where  his 


18  CHOPIN 

refined  manners  made  him  personally  liked.  As  he 
refused  to  take  any  but  talented  pupils,  teaching 
was  not  so  irksome  to  him  as  it  might  have  been. 
Nevertheless  one  cannot  but  marvel  at  the  obtuse- 
ness  of  the  Parisians  who  put  into  the  utilitarian 
harness  an  artist  who  might  have  enchanted  them 
every  evening  with  a  concert,  had  their  taste  been 
more  cultivated.  IJe  did  play  once,  when  he  first 
arrived,  but  the  receipts  did  not  even  meet  the  ex- 
penses, and  the  audience  received  his  work  so  coldly 
that  his  artistic  sensibilities  were  wounded,  and  he 
did  not  again  appear  in  public  for  fourteen  years. 
Occasionally  he  played  for  the  select  aristocratic  cir- 
cles into  which  he  had  been  introduced ;  but  even 
here  he  did  not  often  meet  with  the  genuine  ap- 
preciation and  sympathy  which  the  artist  craves. 
"  Whoever  could  read  in  his  face,"  saysLiszt,  "  could 
see  how  often  he  felt  convinced  that  among  all  these 
handsome,  well-dressed  gentlemen,  among  all  the 
perfumed,  elegant  ladies,  not  one  understood  him." 
As  for  the  French  critics  they  seem  to  have  been 
as  obtuse  as  their  German  colleagues.  To  give  only 
one  instance :  M.  Fetis,  author  of  the  well-known 
musical  dictionary,  states  in  his  article  on  Chopin, 
that  this  composer  is  overrated  to-day,  and  his  popu- 
larity largely  due  to  the  fact  that  he  is  fashionable. 
And  in  his  article  on  Heller,  he  asserts,  more  point- 
edly still,  that  "the  time  will  undoubtedly  come 


CHOPIN  19 

when  the  world  will  recognize  that  Heller,  much 
more  than  Chopin,  is  the  modern  poet  of  the  piano- 
forte." In  this  opinion  Fetis  probably  stands  alone  ; 
but  many  who  have  not  studied  Chopin's  deepest 
works  carefully,  are  still  convinced  that  the  piano- 
forte compositions  of  Mozart,  Beethoven,  and  Schu- 
mann, are  of  greater  importance  than  Chopin's. 
So  far  am  I  from  sharing  this  opinion  that  if  I  had 
to  choose  between  never  again  hearing  a  pianoforte 
piece  by  any  or  all  of  those  composers,  or  never 
again  hearing  a  Chopin  composition,  I  should  decide 
in  favor  of  Chopin.  Some  years  ago  I  expressed  my 
conviction,  in  The  Nation,  that  Chopin  is  as  distinctly 
superior  to  all  other  piano  composers  as  Wagner  is 
to  all  other  opera  composers.  A  distinguished  Cin- 
cinnati musician,  Mr.  Otto  Singer,  was  horrified  at 
this  statement,  and  wrote  in  The  Courier,  of  that 
city,  that  it  could  only  have  been  made  by  "  a  patri- 
otically inclined  Frenchman  or  a  consumptive  in- 
habitant of  Poland  ; "  adding  that  "  he  would  readily 
yield  up  possession  of  quite  a  number  of  Chopin's 
bric-a-brac  for  Schumann's  single  *  Warum.'  "  I  am 
neither  a  patriotic  Frenchman  nor  a  consumptive 
Pole,  and  I  am  a  most  ardent  admirer  of  Schumann  ; 
nevertheless  I  uphold  my  former  opinion,  and  my 
chief  object  in  this  essay  is  to  endeavor  to  justify  it. 
All  authorities,  in  the  first  place,  admit  that  Chopin 
created  an  entirely  new  style  of  playing  the  piano- 


20  CHOPIN 

forte.  Many  have  pointed  out  the  peculiarities  of 
this  style — the  use  of  extended  and  scattered  chords, 
the  innovations  in  fingering  which  facilitate  legato 
playing,  the  spray  of  dainty  little  ornamental  notes, 
the  use  of  the  capricious  tempo  rubato,  and  so  on. 
But  it  has  not  been  made  sufficiently  clear  by  any 
writer  how  it  was  that  Chopin  became  the  Wagner 
of  the  pianoforte,  so  to  speak,  by  revealing  for  the 
first  time  the  infinite  possibilities  of  varied  and 
beautiful  tone-colors  inherent  in  that  instrument. 
To  understand  this  point  fully,  it  is  necessary  to 
bear  in  mind  a  few  facts  regarding  the  history  of 
the  pianoforte. 

The  name  of  pianoforte  was  given  about  a  century 
and  a  half  ago  to  an  instrument  constructed  by  the 
Italian  Cristofori,  who  devised  a  mechanism  for 
striking  the  strings  with  hammers.  In  the  older 
instruments — the  clarichords  and  harpsichords — the 
strings  were  either  snapped  by  means  of  crow's 
quills,  or  pushed  with  a  tangent.  The  new  hammer 
action  not  only  brought  a  better  tone  out  of  the 
string,  but  enabled  the  pianist  to  play  any  note  loud 
or  soft  at  pleasure ;  hence  the  name  piano-forte. 
But  the  pianoforte  itself  required  many  years  before 
all  its  possibilities  of  tone-production  were  discov- 
ered. The  instruments  used  by  Mozart  still  had  a 
thin  short  tone,  and  there  was  no  pedal  for  prolong- 
ing it,  except  a  clumsy  one  worked  with  the  knee— 


CHOPIN  21 

a  circumstance  which  greatly  influenced  Mozart's 
style,  and  is  largely  responsible  for  the  fact  that  his 
pianoforte  works  are  hardly  ever  played  to-day  in 
the  concert  hall.  For,  as  the  tone  could  not  be  sus- 
tained, it  was  customary  in  Mozart's  time  to  hide  its 
meagre  frame  by  means  of  a  great  profusion  of  runs 
and  trills,  and  other  ornaments,  with  which  even 
the  slow  movements  were  disfigured.  Under  the 
circumstances,  these  ornaments  were  justifiable  to 
some  extent,  but  to-day  they  seem  not  only  in  bad 
taste,  but  entirely  superfluous,  because  our  im- 
proved instruments  have  a  much  greater  power  of 
sustaining  tones. 

Czerny,  the  famous  piano  teacher,  touched  in  his 
autobiography  on  the  peculiarities  of  Mozart's  style. 
Beethoven,  who  gave  Czerny  some  lessons  on  the 
piano,  made  him  pay  particular  attention  to  the  le- 
gato, "of  which,"  says  Czerny,  "he  was  so  unri- 
valled a  master,  but  which  at  that  time — the  Mozart 
period,  when  the  short  staccato  touch  was  in  fashion 
— all  other  pianists  thought  impossible.  Beethoven 
told  me  afterwards,"  he  continues,  "  that  he  had  often 
heard  Mozart,  whose  style  from  his  use  of  the  clave- 
cin, the  pianoforte  being  in  his  time  in  its  infancy, 
was  not  at  all  adapted  to  the  newer  instrument.  I 
have  known  several  persons  who  had  received  in- 
struction from  Mozart,  and  their  playing  corrobor- 
ated this  statement." 


22  CHOPIN 

In  view  of  these  facts,  we  can  understand  why 
Beethoven  did  not  like  Mozart's  pianoforte  works  as 
well  as  those  of  Clementi,  in  which  there  was  more 
cantabile,  and  which  required  more  fulness  of  tone  in 
the  execution  ;  and  we  can  understand  why  even  so 
conservative  a  critic  as  Louis  Ehlert  should  exclaim, 
apropos  of  Chopin's  "entirely  new  pianoforte  life," 
"How  uninteresting  is  the  style  of  any  previous 
master  (excepting  Beethoven)  compared  with  his! 
What  a  litany  of  gone-by,  dead-alive  forms !  What 
a  feelingless,  prosaic  jingle !  If  anyone  should, 
without  a  grimace,  assure  me  sincerely  that  he  can 
play  pianoforte  pieces  by  Clementi,  Dussek,  Hum- 
mel, and  Ries,  with  real  enjoyment  even  now,  I  will 
esteem  him  as  an  excellent  man — yes,  a  very  honest 
one ;  but  I  will  not  drink  wine  with  him." 

Were  it  not  for  what  I  have  ventured  to  call  the 
fetish  of  Jumboism,  I  am  convinced  that  Professor 
Ehlert  would  have  written  Mozart's  name  in  this 
last  sentence  in  place  of  Clementi's.  By  excepting 
Beethoven  alone  from  the  list  of  "uninteresting" 
composers  preceding  Chopin,  he  implicitly  con- 
demns Mozart ;  but  he  does  not  dare  to  do  so  ex- 
pllcitly,  although  such  a  confession  would  not  have 
affected  Mozart's  greatness  in  other  departments  of 
music,  which  is  undeniable.  Indeed,  if  Professor 
Ehlert  had  been  perfectly  sincere  I  am  not  quite 
sure  that  he  would  have  excepted  Beethoven's  sona- 


CHOPIN  23 

tas.  Although  they  teem  with  great  and  beautiful 
ideas,  these  sonatas  are  not  really  adapted  to  the  in- 
trinsic nature  of  the  pianoforte,  and  hence  fail  to 
arouse  the  enthusiasm  of  those  whose  taste  has 
been  formed  by  the  works  of  Chopin  and  Schu- 
mann. It  was  no  doubt  an  instinctive  antipathy  to 
Beethoven's  unpianistic  style  (if  the  adjective  be 
permissible),  which  prevented  Chopin  from  admir- 
ing Beethoven  as  deeply  as  he  did  some  other  com- 
posers, whom  he  would  have  admitted  to  be  his  in- 
feriors. And  Beethoven  himself  does  not  seem  to 
have  regarded  his  pianoforte  works  with  the  same 
satisfaction  as  his  other  compositions.  At  least,  he 
wrote  the  following  curious  sentence  in  a  corner  of 
one  of  his  sketch  books  in  1805  ;  "  Heaven  knows 
why  my  pianoforte  music  always  makes  the  worst 
impression  on  me,  especially  when  it  is  played 
badly."  He  must  have  felt  that  his  ideas  found  a 
much  more  appropriate  and  adequate  expression  in 
the  orchestra  than  on  the  piano.  Not  being  a  radi- 
cal innovator  he  did  not,  in  his  treatment  of  the 
pianoforte,  go  beyond  Clementi ;  and  so  it  remained 
for  Chopin  to  show  the  world  that  the  pianoforte,  if 
properly  treated,  will  yield  tones  whose  exquisite  i^ 
sensuous  beauty  can  hardly  be  surpassed  by  any 
combination  of  orchestral  instruments. 

The  two  principal  means  by  which  he   accom- 
plished these  reforms  were  the  constant  employment 


24  CHOPIN 

of  the  pedal,  and  the  use  of  extended  and  scattered 
chords,  in  place  of  the  crowded  harmonies  and  the 
massive  movements  of  the  older  accompaniments. 

Very  few  pianists  seem  to  comprehend  the  exact 
function  and  importance  of  the  pedal.  Many  will 
be  surprised  to  hear  that  the  word  "touch,"  which 
they  suppose  refers  to  the  way  the  keys  are  struck 
by  the  fingers,  has  quite  as  much  to  do  with  the 
feet — that  is,  the  use  of  the  pedal — as  with  the  fin- 
gers. No  matter  how  thoroughly  a  pianist  may 
have  trained  his  fingers,  if  he  does  not  use  the  pedal 
as  it  was  used  by  Chopin  and  Schumann,  he  cannot 
reveal  the  poetry  of  their  compositions.  In  one  of  his 
letters  Chopin  notes  that  Thalberg  played  forte  and 
piano  with  the  pedals,  not  with  his  hands,  and  some 
piano  bangers  do  so  still ;  but  every  pianist  who  de- 
serves the  name  knows  that  loudness  and  softness 
must  be  regulated  by  the  hands  (and  very  rarely 
the  left-side  pedal).  Yet  even  among  this  better 
class  of  pianists  the  notion  seems  to  prevail  that  the 
main  object  of  the  right-side  pedal  is  to  enable  them 
to  prolong  a  chord  or  to  prevent  a  confusion  of  con- 
secutive harmonies.  This  is  one  of  the  functions 
of  the  pedal,  no  doubt,  but  not  the  most  important 
one.  The  chief  service  of  the  pedal  is  in  the  interest 
of  tone-color.    Let  me  explain. 

Every  student  of  music  knows  that  if  you  sing  a 
certain  tone  into  a  piano  (after  pressing  the  pedal), 


CHOPIN  25 

or  before  a  guitar,  the  strings  in  these  instruments 
which  correspond  to  the  tone  you  sing  will  vibrate 
responsively  and  emit  a  tone.  He  also  knows  that 
when  you  sound  a  single  note,  say  G,  on  the  violin 
or  piano,  you  seem  to  hear  only  a  simple  tone,  but 
on  listening  more  closely  you  will  find  that  it  is 
really  a  compound  tone  or  a  complete  chord,  the 
fundamental  tone  being  accompanied  by  faint  over- 
tones, which  differ  in  number  and  relative  loudness 
in  different  instruments,  and  to  which  these  instru- 
ments owe  their  peculiar  tone-color. 

Now  when  you  press  the  pedal  of  a  pianoforte  on 
striking  a  note  you  do  not  only  prolong  this  note,  but 
its  vibrations  arouse  all  the  notes  which  correspond 
to  its  overtones,  and  the  result  is  a  rich  deep  tone- 
color  of  exquisite  sensuous  beauty  and  enchanting 
variableness.  Hence,  whenever  the  melodic  move- 
ment and  harmonic  changes  are  not  too  rapid,  a 
pianist  should  press  the  pedal  constantly,  whether 
he  plays  loudly  or  softly  ;  because  it  is  only  when 
the  damper  is  raised  from  the  strings  that  the  over* 
tones  can  enrich  and  beautify  the  sound  by  causing 
their  corresponding  strings  to  vibrate  in  sympathy 
with  them.  Those  who  heard  Schumann  play  say 
that  he  used  the  pedal  persistently,  sometimes  twice 
in  the  same  bar  to  avoid  harmonic  confusion  ;  and 
the  same  is  true  of  Chopin,  concerning  whose  play- 
ing an  English  amateur  says,  after  referring  to  his 


26  CHOPIN 


■ 


legatissimo  touch:  "The  wide  arpeggios  in  the  left 
hand,  maintained  in  a  continuous  stream  of  tone  by 
the  strict  legato  and  fine  and  constant  use  of  the 
damper  pedal,  formed  an  harmonious  substructure 
for  a  wonderfully  poetic  cantabile." 

I  have  italicised  and  emphasized  the  words  main- 
tained in  a  continuous  stream  of  tone,  because  it  calls 
attention  to  one  of  the  numerous  resemblances 
between  the  style  of  Chopin  and  that  of  Wagner, 
tvho  in  his  music  dramas  similarly  keeps  up  an  un- 
interrupted flow  of  richly  colored  harmonies  to  sus- 
tain the  vocal  part.  Schumann  relates  that  he  had 
the  good  fortune  to  hear  Chopin  play  some  of  his 
etudes.  "And  he  played  them  very  much  d  la 
Chopin"  he  says:  "Imagine  an  iEolian  harp  pro- 
vided with  all  the  scales,  commingled  by  an  artist's 
hand  into  all  manner  of  fantastic,  ornamental  com- 
binations, yet  in  such  a  way  that  you  can  always 
distinguish  a  deeper  ground  tone  and  a  sweet  con- 
tinuous melody  above — and  you  have  an  approxi- 
mate idea  of  his  playing.  No  wonder  that  I  liked 
best  those  of  the  etudes  which  he  played  for  me, 
and  I  wish  to  mention  specially  the  first  one,  in  A 
flat  major,  a  poem  rather  than  an  etude.  It  would 
be  a  mistake  to  imagine  that  he  allowed  each  of  the 
small  notes  to  be  distinctly  audible  ;  it  was  rather  a 
surging  of  the  A  flat  major  chord,  occasionally 
raised  to  a  new  billow  by  the  pedal ;  but  amid  these 


CHOPIN  27 

harmonies  a  wondrous  melody  asserted  itself  in 
large  tones,  and  only  once,  toward  the  middle  of 
the  piece,  a  tenor  part  came  out  prominently  beside 
the  principal  melody.  After  hearing  this  etude 
you  feel  as  you  do  when  you  have  seen  a  ravishing 
picture  in  your  dreams  and,  half  awake,  would  fain 
recall  it." 

Now  it  is  obvious  that  such  dreamy  2Eolian-harp- 
like  harmonies  could  not  have  been  produced  with- 
out Chopin's  novel  and  constant  use  of  the  pedal. 
And  this  brings  out  the  greatest  difference  between 
the  new  and  the  old  style  of  playing.  In  the  piano- 
forte works  of  Mozart  and  Beethoven,  and  even  in 
those  of  Weber,  which  mark  the  transition  from  the 
classical  to  the  romantic  school,  there  are  few  pas- 
sages that  absolutely  require  a  pedal,  and  in  most 
cases  the  pieces  sound  almost  as  well  without  as  with 
pedal ;  so  that,  from  his  point  of  view,  and  in  his 
days  of  staccato  playing,  Hummel  was  quite  right  in 
insisting  that  a  pianist  could  not  be  properly  judged 
until  he  played  without  the  pedal.  But  as  regards 
the  romantic  school  of  Chopin,  Schumann,  Liszt 
and  their  followers,  it  may  be  said  with  equal  truth 
that  a  pianist's  use  of  the  pedal  furnishes  the  su- 
preme test  of  his  talent.  If  he  has  not  the  delicacy 
of  ear  which  is  requisite  to  produce  the  "  continu- 
ous stream  of  tone  "  in  Chopin's  compositions,  with- 
out the  slightest  harmonic  confusion,  he   should 


if 


28  CHOPIN 

leave  them  alone  and  devote  himself  to  less  poetic 
composers. 

An  amusing  anecdote  illustrates  visibly  how  help- 
less Chopin  would  have  been  without  his  pedaL  He 
was  asked  one  evening  at  a  party  in  Paris  to  play. 
He  was  quite  willing  to  do  so  but  discovered  to  his 
surprise  that  the  piano  had  no  pedals.  They  had 
been  sent  away  for  repairs.  In  this  dilemma  a 
happy  thought  occurred  to  Liszt,  who  happened  to 
be  present.  He  crawled  under  the  piano,  and,  while 
Chopin  was  playing,  worked  the  mechanism  to  which 
the  pedals  ought  to  have  been  attached  so  cleverly 
that  they  were  not  missed  at  all !  He  stooped  that 
his  friend  might  conquer. 

The  fact  that  Chopin  in  his  later  works,  often 
omitted  the  sign  for  the  pedal  on  his  MSS.  must  not 
be  held  to  indicate  that  he  did  not  wish  it  to  be 
constantly  used.  In  his  earlier  works  he  carefully 
indicated  where  it  should  be  employed,  but  subse- 
quently he  appears  to  have  reasoned  rightly  that  a 
pianist  who  needs  to  be  told  where  the  pedal  ought, 
and  where  it  ought  not,  to  be  employed,  is  not  suf- 
ficiently advanced  in  culture  to  play  his  works  at 
all,  and  had  therefore  best  leave  them  alone. 

Chopin's  remarkable  genius  for  divining  the  mys- 
teries of  the  pianoforte  enabled  him,  as  it  were,  to 
anticipate  what  is  a  comparatively  recent  invention 
— the  middle  pedal  which  is  chiefly  used  to  sustain 


CHOPIN  29 

single  tones  in  the  bass  without  affecting  the  rest  of 
the  instrument.  The  melancholy  "F  sharp  minor 
Prelude,"  for  example,  cannot  be  played  properly 
without  the  use  of  this  middle  pedal.  In  another 
prelude,  we  have  an  illustration  of  how  the  pedal 
must  often  be  used  in  order  to  help  in  forming  a 
chord  which  cannot  be  stretched.  And  this  brings 
us  to  the  second  important  innovation  in  the  treat- 
ment of  Chopin's  pianoforte — the  constant  use  of 
scattered  and  extended  chords. 

Karasovski  relates  that  Chopin,  a  mere  boy,  used 
to  amuse  himself  by  searching  on  the  piano  for  har- 
monies of  which  the  constituent  notes  were  widely 
scattered  on  the  keyboard,  and,  as  his  hands  were 
too  small  to  grasp  them,  he  devised  a  mechanism  for 
stretching  his  hands,  which  he  wore  at  night.  For- 
tunately, he  did  not  go  so  far  as  Schumann,  who 
made  similar  experiments  with  his  hands  and  there- 
by disabled  one  of  them  for  life.  What  prompted 
Chopin  to  search  for  these  widely  extended  chords 
was  his  intense  appreciation  of  tonal  beauty.  To- 
day everybody  knows  how  much  more  beautiful 
scattered,  and  widely  extended  harmonies  are  than 
crowded  harmonies  ;  but  it  was  Chopin's  genius 
that  discovered  this  fact  and  applied  it  on  a  large 
scale.  Indeed,  so  novel  were  his  chords,  that  at 
first,  many  of  them  were  deemed  unplayable  ;  but 
he  showed  that  if  his  own  system  of  fingering  was 


30  chopin 

adopted,  they  were  not  only  playable,  but  eminently 
suited  to  the  character  of  the  instrument.  The  su- 
perior beauty  of  scattered  intervals  can  be  strikingly 
demonstrated  in  this  way.  If  you  strike  four  or  five 
adjacent  notes  on  the  piano  at  once,  you  produce 
an  intolerable  cacophony.  But  these  same  notes 
can  be  so  arranged  by  scattering  them  that  they 
make  an  exquisite  chord  in  suspension.  Everything 
depends  on  the  arrangement  and  the  wideness  of 
the  intervals.  Chopin's  fancy  was  inexhaustible  in 
^  the  discovery  of  new  kinds  of  scattered  chords,  com- 
bined into  harmony  by  his  novel  use  of  the  pedal ; 
and  in  this  way  he  enriched  music  with  so  many 
new  harmonies  and  modulations  that  he  must  be 
placed,  as  a  harmonic  innovator,  on  a  level  with  Bach 
and  Wagner. 

These  remarks  apply  especially  to  Chopin's  later 
compositions  ;  but  his  peculiarities  are  already  dis- 
tinctly traceable  in  many  of  his  earlier  works  ;  and 
Eisner,  his  teacher,  was  sufficiently  clear-sighted 
and  frank  to  write  the  following  words :  "  The 
achievements  of  Mozart  and  Beethoven  as  pianists 
have  long  been  forgotten  ;  and  their  pianoforte  com- 
positions, although  undoubtedly  classical  works, 
must  give  way  to  the  diversified  artistic  treatment 
of  that  instrument  by  the  modern  school."  Mr.  Jo- 
seph Bennett  quotes  this  sentence  in  his  Biography 
of  Chopin,  and  adds  an  exclamation  point  in  brack- 


CHOPIN  31 

ets  after  it,  to  express  his  surprise.  Mr.  Bennett 
is  considered  one  of  the  leading  London  critics ; 
yet  I  must  say  that  I  have  never  seen  so  much  ig- 
norance in  a  single  exclamation  point  in  brackets. 
Note  the  difference  between  Eisner  and  Bennett. 
Eisner  adds  to  the  sentence  just  quoted,  that  the 
other  works  of  Mozart  and  Beethoven — their  sym- 
phonies, operas,  quartets,  etc.,  "will  not  only  con- 
tinue to  live,  but  will,  perhaps,  remain  unequalled 
by  anything  of  the  present  day."  This  is  genuine 
discriminative  criticism,  which  renders  unto  Caesar 
what  is  Caesar's  due :  whereas,  Mr.  Bennett  is  guided 
by  the  vicious  old  habit  of  fancying  that  because 
Mozart  and  Beethoven  are  great  masters,  therefore 
they  must  be  superior  to  everybody  in  everything. 
Is  it  not  about  time  to  put  an  end  to  this  absurd 
Jumboism  in  music  ? 

The  fact  is,  we  are  living  in  an  age  of  division  of 
labor  and  specialism ;  and  those  who,  like  Robert 
Franz  and  Richard  Wagner,  devote  themselves  to  a 
single  branch  of  music  have  a  better  chance  of  reach- 
ing the  summit  of  Parnassus  than  those  who  dissipate 
their  energies  in  too  many  directions.  Chopin  was 
the  pianoforte  genius  par  excellence,  and  in  his  field 
he  stands  above  the  greatest  of  the  German  com- 
posers, whatever  their  names.  Mendelssohn  once 
wrote  to  his  mother  that  Chopin  "  produces  effects 
on  the  piano  as  novel  as  those  of  Paganini  on  the 


32  CHOPIN 

violin,  and  he  performs  marvels  which  no  one  would 
have  believed  to  be  possible."  Mendelssohn  bene- 
fited to  a  slight  extent  by  Chopin's  example,  but  he 
did  not  add  anything  new  to  the  treatment  of  the 
pianoforte.  Nor  does  even  Liszt  mark  an  advance 
on  Chopin  from  a  purely  pianistic  point  of  view. 
Paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  Liszt,  the  greatest 
pianist  the  world  has  known,  was  really  a  born 
orchestral  composer.  He  was  never  satisfied  with 
the  piano,  but  constantly  wanted  to  convert  it  into 
an  orchestra.  His  innovations  were  all  in  the  ser- 
vice of  these  orchestral  aspirations,  and  hence  it  is 
that  his  rhapsodies,  for  example,  are  much  more 
effective  in  their  orchestral  garb  than  in  their  ori- 
ginal pianoforte  version.  The  same  is  true  of  many 
of  Rubinstein's  pianoforte  works — the  Bal  Masque, 
for  instance,  which  always  has  such  an  electric  effect 
on  Mr.  Theodore  Thomas's  audiences.  Not  so  with 
Chopin.  Liszt  remarks,  somewhere,  that  Chopin 
might  have  easily  written  for  orchestra,  because  his 
compositions  can  be  so  readily  arranged  for  it.  I  ven- 
ture to  differ  from  this  opinion.  Chopin's  Funeral 
March  has  been  repeatedly  arranged  for  orchestra- 
first  by  Reber  at  Chopin's  funeral  (when  Meyerbeer 
regretted  that  he  had  not  been  asked  to  do  this 
labor  of  love) ;  and  more  recently  by  Mr.  Theo- 
dore Thomas.  Mr.  Thomas's  version  is  very  clever 
and  effective,  yet  I  very  much  prefer  this  sublime 


CHOPIN  33 

dirge  on  the  piano.  In  a  small  room  the  piano 
has  almost  as  great  a  capacity  for  dynamic  shad- 
ing as  the  orchestra  has  in  a  large  hall ;  and,  as 
I  have  just  pointed  out,  one  who  knows  how  to 
use  the  pedal  can  secure  an  endless  (almost  orches- 
tral) variety  of  tone-colors  on  the  piano,  thanks  to 
the  hundreds  of  overtones  which  can  be  made  to 
accompany  the  tones  played.  Chopin  spoke  the 
language  of  the  piano.  His  pieces^are  so  idiomatic 
that  they  cannot  be  translated  into  orchestral  lan- 
guage any  more  than  Heine's  lyrics  can  be  trans- 
lated into  English.  Chopin  exhausted  the  possibil- 
ities of  the  pianoforte,  and  the  piano  exhausts  the 
possibilities  of  Chopin's  compositions. 

The  innovations  of  Chopin  which  I  have  so  far 
alluded  to,  have  been  to  some  extent  adopted  by  all 
modern  composers,  and  the  more  they  have  adopted 
them  the  more  their  works  ingratiate  themselves  in 
the  favor  of  amateurs.  But  there  is  another  epoch- 
making  feature  of  Chopin's  style,  which  is  less  easy, 
especially  to  Germans,  because  it  is  a  Slavic  charac- 
teristic; I  mean  the  tempo  rubato.  This  is  a  phrase 
much  used  among  musicians,  but  if  pressed  for  an 
exact  definition,  few  would  be  able  to  give  one.  Let 
us  see  first  what  Chopin's  contemporaries  have  to 
say  of  the  way  in  which  he  himself  treats  it.  Chopin 
visited  England  in  1848,  and  on  June  21  gave  a  con- 
cert in  London.  Mr.  Chorley,  the  well-known  critic, 
3 


34  CHOPIN 

wrote  a  criticism  on  this  occasion  for  "The  Athense* 
urn,"  in  which  he  says :  "  The  delicacy  of  M.  Cho- 
pin's tone  and  the  elasticity  of  his  passages  are  deli- 
cious to  the  ear.  He  makes  a  free  use  of  tempo 
rubato,  leaning  about  within  his  bars  more  than 
any  player  we  recollect,  but  still  subject  to  a  presid- 
ing sentiment  of  measure,  such  as  presently  habitu- 
ates the  ear  to  the  liberties  taken.  In  music  not  his 
own,  we  happen  to  know  he  can  be  as  staid  as  a 
metronome ;  while  his  Mazurkas,  etc.,  lose  half  that 
wildness  if  played  without  a  certain  freedom  and 
license — impossible  to  imitate,  but  irresistible  if  the 
player  at  all  feels  the  music.  This  we  have  always 
fancied  while  reading  Chopin's  works  : — we  are  now 
sure  of  it  after  hearing  him  perform  them." 

Moscheles  wrote  to  his  wife  that  Chopin's  "ad  libi- 
tum playing,  which,  with  the  interpreters  of  his  music 
degenerates  into  offences  against  correct  time,  is,  in 
his  own  case,  merely  a  pleasing  originality  of  style." 
He  compares  him  to  "  a  singer  who,  little  concerned 
with  the  accompaniment,  follows  entirely  his  feel- 
ings." Karasovski  says  that  Chopin  "played  the 
bass  in  quiet,  regular  time,  while  the  right  hand 
moved  about  with  perfect  freedom,  now  following 
the  left  hand,  now  .  .  .  going  its  own  inde- 
pendent way.  'The  left  hand,'  said  Chopin,  'must 
be  like  an  orchestral  conductor ;  not  for  a  moment 
must  it  be  uncertain  and  vacillating.' "    Thus  his 


CHOPIN  35 

playing,  free  from  the  fetters  of  tempo,  acquired  a 
unique  charm ;  thanks  to  this  rubato,  his  melody 
was  "like  a  vessel  rocked  upon  the  waves  of  the 
sea." 

The  world  suffered  a  great  loss  when  a  band  of 
ignorant  soldiers  found  the  bundles  of  letters  which 
Chopin  had  written  from  Paris  to  his  parents,  and 
used  them  to  feed  the  fire  which  cooked  their  supper. 
But  it  lost  a  still  greater  treasure  when  Chopin  tore 
up  the  manuscript  of  his  pianoforte  method,  which 
he  began  to  write  in  the  last  years  of  his  life,  but 
never  finished.  In  it  he  would  no  doubt  have  given 
many  valuable  hints  regarding  the  correct  use  of 
the  rubato.  In  the  absence  of  other  authentic  hints 
beyond  the  one  just  quoted,  Liszt  must  be  depended 
upon  as  the  best  authority  on  the  subject ;  for  it  is 
well  known  that  Liszt  could  imitate  Chopin  so 
nicely  that  his  most  intimate  friends  were  once  de- 
ceived in  a  dark  room,  imagining  that  Chopin  was 
playing  when  Liszfc  was  at  the  piano.  "  Chopin," 
Liszt  writes,  "was  the  first  who  introduced  into  his 
compositions  that  peculiarity  which  gave  such  a 
unique  color  to  his  impetuosity,  and  which  he  called 
temporubato : — an  irregularly  interrupted  movement, 
subtile,  broken,  and  languishing,  at  the  same  time 
flickering  like  a  flame  in  the  wind,  undulating,  like 
the  surface  of  a  wheat-field,  like  the  tree-tops  moved 
by  a  breeze."    All  his  compositions  must  be  played 


36  CHOPIN 

in  this  peculiarly  accented,  spasmodic,  insinuating 
style,  a  style  which  he  succeeded  in  imparting  to  his 
pupils,  but  which  can  hardly  be  taught  without  ex- 
ample. As  with  the  pedal,  so  with  the  rubato,  Chopin 
often  neglected  to  mark  its  use  in  later  years,  taking 
it  for  granted  that  those  who  understood  his  works 
would  know  where  to  apply  it. 

Perhaps  the  importance  of  the  rubato  in  Chopin 
cannot  be  more  readily  realized  than  by  his  concession 
that  he  could  never  play  a  Viennese  waltz  properly, 
and  by  the  fact  that  sometimes,  when  he  was  in  a 
jocular  mood,  he  would  play  one  of  his  mazurkas  in 
strict,  metronomic  time,  to  the  great  amusement  of 
those  who  had  heard  him  play  them  properly.' 

When  Liszt  speaks  of  the  tempo  rubato  as  a 
unique  characteristic  of  Chopin's  style,  he  must  not 
be  understood  too  literally.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
rubato  is  too  important  an  element  of  expression 
not  to  have  been  partially  anticipated  in  the  works  of 
some  of  Chopin's  predecessors,  just  as  Wagner's  lead- 
ing motives  had  imperfect  prototypes  in  the  works  of 
some  preceding  composers.  As  early  as  1602,  the 
Italian,  Caccini,  describes  what  he  calls  the  "  Stile 
Nobile,  in  which  the  singer,"  he  says,  "  emancipates 
himself  from  the  fetters  of  the  measure,  by  prolong- 
ing or  diminishing  the  duration  of  a  note  by  one- 
half,  according  as  the  sense  of  the  word  requires 
it."    But  it  is  probable  that  the  Italian  singers  of 


CHOPIN  37 

that  period,  as  to-day,  used  this  kind  of  rubato 
merely  to  display  the  beauty  of  their  voice  on  a  loud 
high  note,  and  not,  like  Chopin,  for  the  sake  of  em- 
phasizing a  pathetic  or  otherwise  expressive  note  or 
chord. 

Of  the  Germans  it  may  be  said  that,  as  a  rule,  they 
had,  until  recently,  no  special  liking  for  the  tempo 
rubato.  Dr.  Hanslick,  the  eminent  Viennese  critic, 
referred  to  it  thirty  years  ago,  as  "  a  morbid  un- 
steadiness of  tempo."  Mendelssohn,  who  always 
liked  a  "nice,  swift  tempo},>  repeatedly  expressed 
his  aversion  to  Chopin's  rubato.  Nevertheless, 
traces  of  it  may  be  found  in  the  rhythms  of  the  clas- 
sical school  Although  Mozart's  tempo  in  general 
was  as  strict  and  uniform  as  that  of  a  waltz  in  the 
ball-room,  in  playing  an  adagio  he  appears  to  have 
allowed  his  left  hand  some  freedom  of  movement 
for  the  sake  of  expression  (see  Jahn  L,  134).  Beet- 
hoven, according  to  Seyfried,  "  was  very  particular 
at  rehearsals  about  the  frequent  passages  in  tempo 
rubato;"  and  there  are  other  remarks  by  contem- 
poraries of  Beethoven  which  indicate  that  although 
he  wrote  in  the  classical  style,  in  his  playing  and 
conducting  he  often  introduced  a  romantic  rubato. 
Still,  in  the  majority  of  his  compositions,  there  is 
no  room  for  the  rubato,  which  cannot  be  said  to 
have  found  a  home  in  German  music  till  it  was 
assimilated  by  the  Schumann  school,  under  the  in- 


38  CHOPIN 

fluence  of  Chopin.  Since  then,  it  has  leavened  the 
spirit  of  modern  music  in  a  manner  which  has  never 
been  sufficiently  emphasized.  I  am  convinced  that 
even  Eichard  Wagner  was,  unconsciously,  influenced 
by  it  through  Liszt ;  for  one  of  the  chief  peculiari- 
ties of  his  style  is  a  sort  of  dramatic  rubato  which 
emancipates  his  music  from  the  tyranny  of  the  strict 
dance  measure.  In  his  essay  on  the  proper  interpre- 
tation of  Tannhauser,  Wagner  declares  that  the  divis- 
ion of  music  into  regular  measures,  or  bars,  is  mere- 
ly a  mechanical  means  for  enabling  the  composer  to 
convey  his  ideas  to  the  singer.  As  soon  as  the  singer 
has  grasped  the  idea,  he  says,  the  bar  should  be 
thrown  aside  as  a  useless  incumbrance,  and  the 
singer,  ignoring  strict  time,  should  be  guided  by 
his  feelings  alone,  while  the  conductor  should  follow 
and  preserve  harmony  between  him  and  the  or- 
chestra. 

It  might  be  said  that  this  dramatic  rubato  is 
something  different  from  Chopin's  rubato.  Rubato 
literally  means  "  robbed,"  and  it  is  generally  sup- 
posed that  the  peculiarity  of  Chopin's  style  consisted 
simply  in  this,  that  he  prolonged  certain  notes  in  a 
bar  at  the  expense  of  the  others — robbing  from  one 
what  he  gave  to  his  neighbor.  But  this  is  a  very 
inadequate  conception  of  the  term.  Chopin's  ru- 
bato means  much  more  than  this.  It  includes,  to  a 
large  extent,  the  frequent  unexpected  changes  of 


CHOPIN  39 

time  and  rhythm,  together  with  the  ritardandos  and 
accelerandos.  It  includes,  secondly,  those  unique 
passages,  first  conceived  by  Chopin,  where  the  right 
hand  has  to  play  irregular  groups  of  small  notes — 
say  twenty-two,  while  the  left  hand  plays  only 
twelve  ;  or  nineteen,  while  the  left  plays  four — pas- 
sages in  which  Chopin  indicated  .as  clearly  as  Wag- 
ner did  in  the  words  just  quoted  that  the  musical 
bar  is  a  mere  mechanical  measure  which  does  not 
sufficiently  indicate  the  phrasing  of  the  romantic  or 
dramatic  ideas  that  lie  beyond  the  walls  of  a  dance- 
hall. 

There  is  a  third  peculiarity  of  Chopin's  style  which 
may  be  included  under  the  name  of  rubato,  namely, 
his  habit  of  "  robbing  "  the  note,  not  of  its  duration, 
but  its  accent.  Every  student  of  music  knows  that 
the  symphony  and  sonata  are  called  "idealized 
dance  forms,"  because  they  are  direct  outgrowths 
of  the  dances  that  were  cultivated  originally  in 
Italy,  France,  and  Germany.  Now,  one  peculiarity 
of  these  dances  is  the  fact  that  the  accent  always 
falls  on  the  first  beat  of  each  bar.  This  is  very  ap- 
propriate and  convenient  for  dancing,  but  from  an 
artistic  point  of  view,  it  is  decidedly  monotonous. 
Hence,  Chopin  conferred  a  vast  benefit  on  modern 
art  by  introducing  the  spirit  of  Slavic  music,  in  which 
the  accent  often  falls  on  other  beats  beside  the  first. 
These  regular  accents  produce  the  effect  of  the  va- 


40  CHOPIN 

riable  tempo  rubato,  and  it  is  to  them  that  Chopin's 
works  largely  owe  their  exotic,  poetic  color.  As  they 
open  up  new  possibilities  of  emotional  expression, 
they  have  been  eagerly  appropriated  by  other  com- 
posers and  have  leavened  all  modern  music.  To 
Chopin,  therefore,  chiefly  belongs  the  honor  of  hav- 
ing emancipated  music  from  the  monotony  of  the 
Western  European  dance-beat  by  means  of  the  tem- 
po rubato  in  its  varied  aspects. 

But,  it  was  not  merely  in  the  accent  of  the  dance 
forms,  that  he  introduced  an  agreeable  innovation  ; 
he  was  one  of  the  giants  who  helped  to  create  a  new 
epoch  in  art,  by  breaking  these  old  forms  altogether, 
and  substituting  new  ones  better  suited  to  modern 
tastes.  And  here  we  come  across  one  of  the  most 
ludicrous  misconceptions  which  have  been  fostered 
concerning  Chopin  by  shallow  critics,  and  which 
brings  us  back  again  for  a  moment  to  the  question 
of  Jumboism.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  was  a 
German  or  a  French  critic  who  first  wrote  that 
Chopin,  although  great  in  short  pieces,  was  not 
great  enough  to  master  the  sonata  form.  Once  in 
print,  this  silly  opinion  was  repeated  parrot-like  by 
scores  of  other  critics.  How  silly  it  is  may  be  in- 
ferred from  the  fact  that  such  third-rate  composer- 
lings  as  Herz  and  Hummel  were  able  to  write 
sonatas  of  the  most  approved  pattern — and  that,  in 
fact,  any  person  with  the  least  musical  talent  can 


CHOPIN  41 

learn  in  a  few  years  to  write  sonatas  that  are  abso- 
lutely correct  as  regards  form.  And  yet  we  are 
asked  to  believe  that  Chopin,  one  of  the  most  pro- 
found and  original  musical  thinkers  the  world  has 
ever  seen,  could  not  write  a  correct  sonata !  Bisum 
teneatis  amid!  Chopin  not  able  to  master  the 
sonata  form  ?  The  fact  is,  the  sonata  form  could  not 
master  him.  He  felt  instinctively  that  it  was  too 
artificial  to  serve  as  a  vehicle  for  the  expression  of 
poetic  thought ;  and  his  thoroughly  original  genius 
therefore  created  the  more  plastic  and  malleable 
shorter  forms  which  have  since  been  adopted  by 
composers  the  world  over.  The  few  sonatas  which 
Chopin  wrote  do  not  deviate  essentially  from  the 
orthodox  structure,  but  one  feels  constantly  that  he 
was  hampered  in  his  movements  by  the  artificial 
structure.  Though  they  are  full  of  genius,  like 
everything  he  composed,  he  did  not  write  them  con 
amore.  Concentration  is  one  of  Chopin's  principal 
characteristics,  and  the  sonata  favors  diffuseness. 
Too  much  thematic  beating  out  is  the  bane  of  the 
sonata.  A  few  bars  of  gold  are  worth  more  than 
many  square  yards  of  gold  leaf  ;  and  Chopin's  bars 
are  solid  gold.  Moreover,  there  is  no  organic  unity 
between  the  different  parts  of  the  sonata,  whatever 
may  have  been  said  to  the  contrary.  The  essenti- 
ally artificial  character  of  the  sonata  is  neatly  illus- 
trated by  a  simile  used  by  Dr.  Hanslick  in  speaking 


42  CHOPIN 

of  Chopin.  "This  composer,"  he  said,  "although 
highly  and  peculiarly  gifted,  was  never  able  to 
unite  the  fragrant  flowers  which  he  scattered  by 
handfuls,  into  beautiful  wreaths."  Dr.  Hanslick 
intends  this  as  censure.  I  regard  it  as  the  great- 
est compliment  he  could  have  paid  him.  A  wreath 
may  be  very  pretty  in  its  way,  but  it  is  artificial. 
The  flowers  are  crushed  and  their  fragrance  does 
not  blend.  How  much  lovelier  is  a  single  violet  or 
orchid  in  the  fields,  unhampered  by  strings  and 
wires,  and  connected  solely  with  its  stalk  and  the 
surrounding  green  leaves.  Many  of  Chopin's  com- 
positions are  so  short  that  they  can  hardly  be 
likened  unto  flowers,  but  only  to  buds.  Yet  is  not 
a  rosebud  a  thousand  times  more  beautiful  than  a 
full-blown  rose  ? 

One  more  consideration.  The  psychology  of  the 
sonata  form  is  false.  Men  and  women  do  not  feel 
happy  for  ten  minutes  as  in  the  opening  allegro  of 
a  sonata,  then  melancholy  for  another  ten  minutes, 
as  in  the  following  adagio,  then  frisky,  as  in  the 
scherzo,  and  finally,  fiery  and  impetuous  for  ten 
minutes  as  in  the  finale.  The  movements  of  our 
minds  are  seldom  so  systematic  as  this.  Sad  and 
happy  thoughts  and  moods  chase  one  another  in- 
cessantly and  irregularly,  as  they  do  in  the  compo- 
sitions of  Chopin,  which,  therefore,  are  much  truer 
echoes  of  our  modern  romantic  feelings  than  the 


OHOPIN  43 

stiff  and  formal  classical  sonatas.  And  thus  it  is, 
that  Chopin's  habitual  neglect  of  the  sonata  form, 
instead  of  being  a  defect,  reveals  his  rare  artistic 
subtlety  and  grandeur.  It  was  natural  that  a  Pole 
should  vindicate  for  music  this  emotional  freedom 
of  movement,  for  the  Slavic  mind  is  especially  prone 
to  constant  changes  of  mood.  Nevertheless,  as  soon 
as  Chopin  had  shown  the  way,  other  composers  fol- 
lowed eagerly  in  the  new  path,  and  in  the  present 
day  the  sonata  may  be  regarded  as  obsolete.  Few 
contemporary  composers  have  written  more  than 
one  or  two — merely  in  order  to  show  that  they  can 
do  so  if  they  want  to  ;  and  even  Brahms,  the  high 
priest  of  the  conservatives,  has,  in  his  later  period, 
devoted  himself  more  and  more  exclusively  to 
shorter  modern  forms  in  his  pianoforte  music. 

Strictly  speaking,  Chopin  was  not  the  first  who 
tried  to  get  away  from  the  sonata.  Beethoven, 
though  he  remained  faithful  to  it,  felt  its  fetters,  as 
is  shown  by  his  numerous  poetic  licenses.  Schu- 
bert wrote  "Moments  Musicals,"  Mendelssohn, 
"Songs  without  Words,"  Weber,  Polonaises,  and 
Field,  Nocturnes.  But  these  were  merely  straws 
which  indicated  in  which  direction  Chopin's  genius 
would  sweep  the  field  and  clear  the  musical  atmos- 
phere. His  polonaises  and  nocturnes  are  vastly 
superior  to  those  of  Weber  and  Field ;  and  his  po- 
etic preludes,  his  romantic  ballads,  his  lovely  ber- 


44  .  CHOPIN 

9euse,  his  amorous  mazurkas,  are  new  types  in  art 
which  have  often  been  imitated  but  never  equalled. 
Only  in  one  field  did  Chopin  have  a  dangerous  rival 
among  his  predecessors,  namely,  in  the  Waltz. 
Weber's  "  Invitation  to  the  Dance  "  is  the  source  of 
the  modern  idealized  waltz,  because  it  was  not 
written  for  the  feet  alone,  but  also  for  the  heart  and 
the  imagination.  Like  Chopin's  waltzes,  it  contains 
chivalrous  passages,  amorous  episodes,  and  subtle 
changes  of  movement.  And  it  seems  as  if  the  fact 
that  there  was  less  room  for  formal  and  emotional 
innovations  in  the  waltz  than  in  the  other  forms, 
had  somewhat  affected  Chopin's  imagination.  For, 
although  the  most  popular  of  his  works,  his  waltzes 
are,  with  a  few  exceptions  in  which  the  rubato  pre- 
vails, less  characteristic  than  his  other  pieces. 
Nevertheless,  they  are  charming,  every  one  of  them. 
But  they  are  fairy  dances — mortals  are  too  clumsy 
to  keep  time  to  them. 

Next  to  the  waltzes  in  popularity  come  the 
polonaises ;  and  they  fully  deserve  their  popularity. 
Liszt  has  given  us  a  charming  description  of  the 
polonaise  as  it  was  formerly  danced  in  Chopin's  na- 
tive country.  It  was  less  a  dance  than  a  promenade 
in  which  courtly  pomps  and  aristocratic  splendor 
were  on  exhibition.  It  was  a  chivalrous  but  not  an 
amorous  dance,  precedence  being  given  to  age  and 
rank,  before  youth  and  beauty.     And  whereas,  in 


chopin  45 

other  dances,  the  place  of  honor  is  always  given  to 
the  fair  sex,  in  the  polonaise  the  men  are  in  the 
foreground.  In  a  word,  the  polonaise  represents, 
both  in  its  subject  and  the  style  of  music,  the  mas- 
culine side  of  Chopin's  genius. 

The  feminine  side  is  chiefly  embodied  in  the  ma- 
zurkas and  the  nocturnes.  It  has  been  said  that  the 
highest  genius  must  combine  masculine  with  fem- 
inine traits,  and  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  the 
works  of  two  of  the  most  spontaneous  composers — 
Chopin  and  Schubert — are  often  characterized  by 
an  exquisite  feminine  tenderness  and  grace ;  as  if, 
seeing  that  women  have  not  done  their  duty  as  com- 
posers, they  had  tried  to  introduce  the  feminine 
spirit  in  music.  Yet  it  is  unfair  to  place  too  much 
emphasis  on  this  side  of  their  genius.  In  their 
bolder  moments,  Chopin  and  Schubert  are  thor- 
oughly masculine. 

It  seems  strange  at  first  sight  that  the  mazurkas, 
these  exquisite  love  poems,  should  be  so  much  less 
popular  than  the  waltzes,  for  they  are  quite  as  me- 
lodious and  much  easier — although  here,  as  else- 
where, Chopin  often  introduces  a  few  very  difficult 
bars  in  an  otherwise  easy  composition,  as  if  to  keep 
away  bunglers.  Perhaps  the  cause  of  their  com- 
parative neglect  is,  that  they  are  so  thoroughly 
Polish  in  spirit ;  unless  they  are  played  with  an  ex- 
otic rubato,  their  fragrance  vanishes/    There  is  more 


46  CHOPIN 

local  color  in  the  mazurkas  than  in  any  of  his  other 
works.  The  Mazurs  are  musically  a  highly  gifted 
nation,  and  Chopin  was  impressed  early  in  life  with 
the  quaint  originality  of  their  melodies.  No  doubt 
some  of  his  mazurkas  are  merely  artistic  settings  of 
these  old  love  songs,  but  they  are  the  settings  of  an 
inspired  jeweller.  If  we  can  judge  by  the  number 
of  pieces  of  each  class  that  he  wrote,  the  mazurka 
was  Chopin's  favorite  forn£  •  *-  Even  on  his  death-bed 
he  wrote  one.  It  was  his  last  effort,  and  he  was  too 
weak  to  try  it  over  on  the  piano.  It  is  of  heart- 
rending sadness,  and  exquisite  pathos.  Perhaps  it 
was  a  patriotic  rather  than  an  aesthetic  feeling  which 
led  him  thus  to  favor  the  mazurka.  His  love  for 
his  country  was  exceeded  only  by  his  devotion  to  his 
art.  "  Oh,  how  sad  it  must  be  to  die  in  a  foreign 
country,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend  in  1830 ;  and  when, 
soon  afterward,  he  left  home  he  took  along  a  hand- 
ful of  Polish  soil  which  he  kept  for  nineteen  years. 
Shortly  before  his  death  he  expressed  a  wish  that  it 
should  be  strewn  in  his  coffin — a  wish  which  was 
fulfilled  ;  so  that  his  body  rested  on  Polish  soil  even 
in  Paris. 

A  countless  number  of  exquisite  melodic  rhythmic 
and  harmonic  details  in  the  mazurkas  might  be 
dwelt  upon  in  this  place,  but  I  will  only  call  atten- 
tion to  the  inexhaustible  variety  of  ideas  which 
makes  each  of  them  so  unique,  notwithstanding 


UNIVERSITY 


'  OHOPIN  47 


their  strong  family  likeness.  They  are  like  fan- 
tastic orchids,  or  like  the  countless  varieties  of 
humming  birds,  those  "  winged  poems  of  the  air," 
of  which  no  two  are  alike  while  all  resemble  each 
other. 

The  nocturnes  represent  the  dreamy  side  of  Chop- 
in's genius.  They  are  sufficiently  popular,  yet  few 
amateurs  have  any  idea  of  their  unfathomable  depth, 
and  few  know  how  to  use  the  pedal  in  such  a  way  as 
to  produce  the  rich  uninterrupted  flow  of  tone  on 
which  the  melody  should  float.  Most  pianists  play 
them  too  fast.  Mozart  and  Schumann  protested 
against  the  tendency  to  take  their  slow  pieces  too 
fast,  and  Chopin  suffers  still  more  from  this  perni- 
cious habit.  Mendelssohn  in  "  A  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,"  and  Weber  in  "Oberon,"  have  given  us 
glimpses  of  dreamland,  buijQhopin's  nocturnes  take 
us  there  bodily,  and  plunge  us  into  reveries  more 
delicious  than  the  visions  of  an  opium  eater.  They 
should  be  played  in  the  twilight  and  in  solitude, 
for  the  slightest  foreign  sound  breaks  the  spell. 
But  just  as  dreams  are  sometimes  agitated  and 
dramatic,  s<J^ome  of  these  nocturnes  are  complete 
little  dramas  with  stormy,  tragic  episodes,  and  the 
one  in  C  sharp  minor,  e.g.,  embodies  a  greater  variety 
of  emotion  and  more  genuine  dramatic  spirit  on  four 
pages  than  many  popular  operas  on  four  hundred.^ 

One  of  Chopin's  enchanting  innovations,  which  he 


48  CHOPIN 

introduced  frequently  in  the  nocturnes,  consists  in 
those  unique  and  exquisite  fioriture,  or  dainty  little 
notes  which  suddenly  descend  on  the  melody  like  a 
spray  of  dew  drops  glistening  in  all  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow.  No  less  unique  and  original  are  the  exqui- 
site modulations  into  foreign  keys  which  abound  in 
the  nocturnes,  as,  indeed,  in  all  his  works.  Schucht 
calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  in  his  very  opus  1 
Chopin  permits  himself  a  freedom  of  modulation 
which  Beethoven  rarely  indulged  in.  But  this  is  a 
mere  trifle  compared  with  the  works  of  his  last  pe- 
riod. Here  we  find  a  striking  originality  and  bold- 
ness of  modulation  that  has  no  parallel  in  music, 
except  in  Wagner's  last  music-dramas.  Now  we 
have  seen  that  Moscheles,  and  other  contemporaries 
of  Chopin,  found  his  modulations  harsh  and  dis- 
agreeable ;  and  doubtless  there  are  amateurs  to-day 
who  regard  them  in  the  same  way.  It  seems,  in- 
deed, as  if  musical  people  must  be  divided  into  two 
classes — those  who  find  their  chief  delight  in  melody 
pure  and  simple,  and  those  who  think  that  rich  and 
varied  harmony  is  the  soul  of  music.  Chopin  for- 
tunately wrote  for  both  classes.  Italy  has  produced 
no  melodist  equal  to  him,  and  Germany  only  one — 
Franz  Schubert.  No  one  has  written  melodies  more 
soulful  than  those  of  the  nocturne,  opus  37,  No.  2, 
the  second  ballad,  the  etudes,  opus  10,  No.  3 ;  opus 
25,  No.  7,  etc.     I  distinctly  remember  the  thrill 


CHOPIN  49 

with  which  I  heard  each  of  these  melodies  for  the 
first  time  ;  but  it  was  a  deeper  emotion  still  which  I 
felt  when  I  played  for  the  first  time  the  sublimest 
of  his  nocturnes — the  last  but  one  he  wrote^-and 
came  across  that  wonderful  modulation  from  five 
sharps  to  four  flats,  and,  later  on,  the  delicious 
series  of  modulations  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  bars 
after  the  Tempo  Primo.  I  realized  then  that  mod- 
ulation is  a  deeper  source  of  emotional  expression 
than  melody. 

In  speaking  of  Chopin's,,  melancholy  character,  the 
nocturnes  are  often  referred  to  as  illustrations  of 
it.  They  do,  indeed,  breathe  a  spirit  of  sadness, 
but  the  majority  represent,  as  I  have  said,  the 
dreamy  side  of  his  genius.  The  real  anguish  of  his 
heart  is  not  expressed  in  the  nocturnes  but  in  the 
preludes  and  etudes,  strange  as  these  names  may 
seem  for  such  pathetic  effusions  of  his  heart.  The 
etude,  opus  10,  No.  6,  seems  as  if  it  were  in  a  sort 
of  double  minor;  as  much  sadder  than  ordinary 
minor,  as  ordinary  minor  is  sadder  than  major. 
Chopin  had  abundant  cause  to  be  melancholy.  He 
inherited  that  national  melancholy  of  the  Poles 
which  causes  them  even  to  dance  to  tunes  in  minor 
keys,  and  which  is  commonly  attributed  to  the  long- 
continued  political  oppression  under  which  they  have 
suffered.  But,  apart  from  this  national  trait,  Chopin 
had  sufficient  personal  reasons  for  writing  the 
4 


50  CHOPIN 

greater  part  of  his  mazurkas  and  his  other  pieces 
in  minor  keys.  Like  other  men  of  genius,  he 
keenly  felt  the  anguish  of  not  being  fully  appre- 
ciated by  his  contemporaries.  Moreover,  although 
he  was  greatly  admired  by  the  French  and  Polish 
women  in  Paris,  and  was  even  conceded  a  lady- 
killer,  he  was,  in  his  genuine  affairs  of  the  heart, 
thrice  disappointed.  His  first  love,  who  wore  his 
engagement  ring  when  he  left  Warsaw,  proved  faith- 
less to  the  absent  lover,  and  married  another  man. 
The  second  love  deceived  him  in  the  same  way,  pre- 
ferring a  Count  to  a  genius.  And  his  third  love, 
George  Sand,  after  apparently  reciprocating  his  at- 
tachment, for  a  few  years,  not  only  discarded  him, 
but  tried  to  justify  her  conduct  to  the  world,  by 
giving  an  exaggerated  portraiture  of  his  weaknesses, 
in  her  novel  "  Lucrezia  Floriani." 

Nevertheless,  it  was  in  one  respect  fortunate  for 
the  world  that  George  Sand  was  Chopin's  friend  so 
long,  for  we  owe  to  her  facile  pen  many  interesting 
accounts  of  Chopin's  habits  and  the  origin  of  some 
of  his  compositions.  The  winter  which  he  spent 
with  her  on  the  Island  of  Majorca  was  one  of  the 
most  important  in  his  life,  for  it  was  here  that  he 
composed  some  of  those  masterpieces,  his  preludes 
— a  word  which  might  be  paraphrased  as  Introduc- 
tions to  a  new  world  of  musical  emotion.  There  is 
a  strange  discrepancy  in  the  accounts  which  Liszt 


CHOPIN  51 

and  George  Sand  give  of  the  Majorca  episode  in 
Chopin's  life.  Liszt  describes  it  as  a  period  of 
calm  enjoyment,  George  Sand  as  one  of  discomfort 
and  distress.  As  she  was  an  eye-witness,  her  testi- 
mony appears  the  more  trustworthy,  especially  as  it 
is  borne  out  by  the  character  of  the  preludes  which 
he  composed  there.  There  are  among  Chopin's 
preludes  a  few  which  breathe  the  spirit  of  content- 
ment and  grace,  or  of  religious  grandeur,  but  most 
of  them  are  outbreaks  of  the  wildest  anguish  and 
heart-rending  pathos.  If  tears  could  be  heard,  they 
would  sound  like  these  preludes.  Two  of  the  sad- 
dest— those  in  B  minor  and  E  minor — were  played 
by  the  famous  organist  Lefebure  Wely,  at  Chopin's 
funeral  services.  But  it  is  useless  to  specify.  They 
are  all  jewels  of  the  first  water. 

Some  years  ago  I  wrote  in  "The  Nation  "  that  if  all 
pianoforte  music  in  the  world  were  to  be  destroyed, 
excepting  one  collection,  my  vote  should  be  cast  for 
Chopin's  preludes.  If  anything  could  induce  me  to 
modify  that  opinion  to-day,  it  would  be  the  thought 
of  Chopin's  etudes.  I  would  never  consent  to  their 
loss.  Louis  Ehlert,  speaking  of  Chopin's  F  Major 
ballad,  says  he  has  seen  even  children  stop  in  their 
play  and  listen  to  it  enraptured.  But,  in  the 
etudes  I  mentioned  a  moment  ago,  there  are  melo- 
dies which,  I  should  think,  would  tempt  even  angels 
to  leave  their  happy  home  and  indulge,  for  a  mo- 


52  CHOPIN 

ment,  in  the  luxury  of  idealized  human  sorrow. 
There  is  in  these  twenty-seven  etudes,  as  in  the 
twenty-five  preludes,  an  inexhaustible  wealth  of 
melody,  modulation,  poetry  and  passion.  One  can 
play  them  every  day  and  never  tire  of  them.  Of 
most  of  them  one  might  say  what  Schumann  said  of 
one — that  they  are  "poems  rather  than  studies;" 
and  much  surprise  has  been  expressed  that  Chopin 
should  have  chosen  such  a  modest  and  apparently 
inappropriate  name  for  them  as  "studies."  Now,  I 
have  a  theory  on  this  subject :  I  believe  it  was  partly 
an  ironic  intention  which  induced  Chopin  to  call 
some  of  his  most  inspired  pieces  "  studies."  Pian- 
ists have  always  been  too  much  in  the  habit  of  look- 
ing at  their  art  from  purely  technical  or  mechanical 
points  of  view.  They  looked  for  mere  five-finger 
exercises  in  Chopin's  etudes,  and  finding  at  the 
same  time  an  abundance  of  musical  ideas,  they  were 
surprised.  It  did  not  occur  to  them  that  Chopin 
might  have  intended  them  also  as  studies  in 
musical  composition — studies  in  melody,  harmony, 
rhythm  and  emotional  expression.  I  believe  he  did 
so  intend  them ;  and  finding  that  his  contemporaries 
did  not  take  his  idea,  he  probably  laughed  in  his 
sleeve,  and  exclaimed,  "  0  tempora  !  " 

This  conjecture  seems  the  more  plausible,  from 
the  fact  that  there  was  a  pronounced  ironic  and 
comic  vein  in  Chopin's  character.     The  accounts  of 


CHOPIN  53 

his  melancholy,  in  fact,  like  those  of  his  ill-health, 
have  been  too  much  exaggerated.  He  was  often  in  a 
cheerful  mood.  Sometimes  he  would  amuse  himself 
for  a  whole  evening  playing  blind-man's  buff  with 
the  children.  As  a  mere  child  he  had  formed  the 
habit  of  mimicking  and  caricaturing  pianists  and 
other  distinguished  men.  Liszt  often  suffered  from 
this  mischievous  habit,  but  he  did  not  complain,  and 
even  seemed  to  enjoy  it.  Of  Chopin's  wit,  two  speci- 
mens may  be  cited.  A  rich  Parisian  one  day  invited 
him  to  dinner,  with  the  intention  of  getting  him  to 
entertain  the  guests  afterward.  In  this  case,  how- 
ever, the  host  had  reckoned  without  the  guest,  for, 
when  asked  to  play,  Chopin  exclaimed,  "But,  my 
dear  sir,  I  have  eaten  so  little."  The  other  instance 
occurs  in  one  of  his  letters,  where  he  says  of  the  pi- 
anist Aloys  Schmitt,  that  he  was  forty  years  old,  and 
his  compositions  eighty — a  bon  mot  worthy  of  Heine. 
There  was  much,  indeed,  in  common  between 
Chopin  and  Heine.  Nothing  is  more  characteristic 
of  Heine  than  the  way  in  which  he  works  up  our 
sentimental  feelings  only  to  knock  us  on  the  head 
with  a  comic  or  grotesque  line  at  the  end.  Simi- 
larly, Chopin,  after  improvising  for  his  friends  for 
an  hour  or  two,  would  suddenly  rouse  them  from 
their  reveries  by  a  glissando — sliding  his  fingers 
from  one  end  of  the  key-board  to  the  other.  In 
almost  all  of  Chopin's  or  Heine's  poems  there  is  this 


54  CHOPIN 

peculiar  mixture  of  the  sad  and  the  comic  veins- 
even  in  the  scherzos,  which  represent  the  gay  and 
cheerful  moods  of  Chopin's  muse. 

Another  point  between  these  two  poets  is  their 
elegance  of  style,  and  their  ironic  abhorrence  of 
tawdry  sentimentality  and  commonplace.  Heine  is 
the  most  elegant  and  graceful  writer  of  his  country, 
and  Chopin  the  most  elegant  and  graceful  of  all  com- 
posers. Not  a  redundant  note  or  a  meaningless  bar 
in  all  his  compositions.  Heine  owed  his  formal  finish 
to  French  influences,  but  Chopin  did  not  need  them, 
for  the  Poles  are  as  noted  as  the  French  for  elegance 
and  grace.  He  avoided  not  only  the  modulatory 
monotony  of  the  classical  school,  but,  especially,  the 
commonplace  endings  which  marred  so  many  classi- 
cal compositions.  "  All's  well  that  ends  well,"  is  a 
rule  that  was  generally  ignored  by  composers  till 
Chopin  taught  them  its  value  and  effect.  Chopin's 
pen  always  stopped  when  his  thoughts  stopped,  and 
he  never  appends  a  meaningless  end  formula  as  if  to 
warn  the  audience  that  they  may  now  put  on  their 
hats.  On  the  contrary,  some  of  his  later  composi- 
tions, especially  of  the  last  period,  end  with  exqui- 
site miniature  poems,  connected  in  spirit  with  the 
preceding  music  and  yet  distinct — separate  inspira- 
tions. I  refer,  especially,  to  the  endings  of  his  last 
two  nocturnes  and  to  the  final  bars  of  the  ma- 
zurka, opus  59,  No.  3. 


CHOPIN  55 

George  Sand  has  given  us  a  vivid  sketch  of  Chop- 
in's conscientiousness  as  a  composer.  "  He  shut  him- 
self up  in  his  room  for  entire  days,"  she  says,"  weep- 
ing, walking  about,  breaking  his  pen,  repeating  and 
changing  a  bar  a  hundred  times,  and  beginning  again 
next  day  with  minute  and  desperate  perseverance. 
He  spent  six  weeks  over  a  single  page,  only  to  go 
back  and  write  that  which  he  had  traced  at  the  first 
essay."  As  regards  his  creativeness,  George  Sand 
says  that  "it  descended  upon  his  piano  suddenly, 
completely,  sublimely,  or  it  sang  itself  in  his  head 
during  his  walks,  and  he  made  haste  to  hear  it  by 
rushing  to  the  instrument."  I  have  already  men- 
tioned the  fact  that  when  he  wrote  his  last  mazurka 
he  was  too  weak  to  try  it  on  the  piano.  In  one  of 
his  letters  he  speaks  of  a  polonaise  being  ready 
in  his  head.  These  facts  indicate  that  he  composed 
mentally,  although,  no  doubt,  during  the  improvisa- 
tions, many  themes  occurred  to  him  which  he  re- 
membered and  utilized.  When  he  improvised  he 
did  not  watch  the  key-board,  but  generally  looked 
at  the  ceiling.  Already  as  a  youth  he  used  to  be 
so  absorbed  that  he  forgot  his  meals ;  and,  in  the 
street,  he  was  often  so  absent-minded  that  he  very 
narrowly  escaped  being  run  over  by  a  wagon.  Vis- 
ions of  female  loveliness  and  patriotic  reminiscences 
inspired  many  of  his  best  works.  Sometimes  the 
pictures  in  his  mind  became  so  vivid  as  to  form  real 


56  CHOPIN 

hallucinations.  Thus  it  is  related  that  one  evening 
when  he  was  alone  in  the  dark,  trying  over  the  A 
major  polonaise  which  he  had  just  completed,  he  saw 
the  door  open  and  in  marched  a  procession  of  Polish 
knights  and  ladies  in  mediaeval  costumes — the  same, 
no  doubt,  that  his  imagination  had  pictured  while  he 
was  composing.  He  was  so  alarmed  at  this  vision 
that  he  fled  through  the  opposite  door  and  did  not 
venture  to  return.  Another  illustration  of  the  rela- 
tions between  genius  and  insanity. 

The  foregoing  remarks  on  Chopin's  compositions 
suffice,  I  think,  to  show  how  absurd  is  the  prevalent 
notion  that  he  is  the  composer  for  the  drawing- 
room,  and  that  his  pieces  reflect  the  spirit  of  fash- 
ionable Parisian  society.  They  do,  perhaps,  in  their 
elegant  form,  but  certainly  not  in  their  spirit.  The 
frivolous  aristocratic  circles  that  heard  Chopin  could 
never  have  comprehended  the  depth  of  his  emo- 
tional life.  The  pianists  for  them,  the  real  drawing- 
room  composers  were  Kalkbrenner,  and  Field,  and 
Thalberg,  with  their  operatic  fantasias.  Chopin  is 
the  composer  for  the  few,  and  he  is  the  composer 
par  excellence  for  musicians.  From  him  they  can  get 
more  ideas,  and  learn  more  as  regards  form,  than 
from  anyone  else,  except  Bach  and  Wagner.  In 
comparing  his  last  works  with  his  first,  and  noting 
their  progress,  the  mind  tries  in  vain  to  conceive 
where  he  would  have  led  the  world  had  he  lived 


CHOPIN  51 

eighty  instead  of  forty  years.  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain :  he  would  have  probably  written  more  for 
other  instruments.  His  pianoforte  concertos  belong 
to  his  early  period,  and  betray  a  lack  of  experience 
in  the  treatment  of  the  orchestra.  But  he  wrote 
two  pieces  of  chamber  music  which  have  never  been 
excelled — a  'cello  sonata  and  a  trio.  The  'cello  sonata 
was  the  last  of  his  larger  works,  and  in  my  opinion 
it  is  superior  to  any  of  the  'cello  sonatas  of  Men- 
delssohn, Brahms,  and  even  Beethoven  and  Rubin- 
stein. The  trio,  though  an  earlier  work,  is,  like  the 
'cello  sonata,  admirably  adapted  to  the  instruments 
for  which  it  is  written.  I  once  belonged  to  an  ama- 
teur trio  club.  Our  tastes  naturally  differed  on 
many  points,  but  in  one  thing  we  all  agreed:  we 
always  closed  our  entertainment  with  this  Chopin 
trio.  It  was  the  climax  of  the  evening's  enjoyment. 
Yet,  only  a  few  years  ago,  the  leader  of  one  of  the 
principal  chamber  music  organizations  in  New  York 
admitted  to  me  that  he  had  never  heard  of  this  trio  ! 
— an  incident  which  vividly  illustrates  the  truth  of 
my  assertion  that  Chopin's  genius  is  still  far  from 
being  esteemed  at  its  full  value. 


II 

HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 


HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 

Forty  years  ago  Robert  Schumann  complained 
that  the  musical  critics  had  so  much  to  say  about 
singers  and  players,  while  the  composer  was  almost 
entirely  ignored.  To-day  this  reproach  could  hardly 
be  made,  for  although  vocalists  still  receive  perhaps 
a  disproportionate  share  of  attention,  compositions, 
new  and  old,  are  also  discussed  at  great  length  in 
the  press.  Nevertheless,  I  believe  that  the  vast 
majority  of  those  who  attend  an  operatic  perform- 
ance in  New  York,  and  are  delighted  with  "Sieg- 
fried" or  "Faust,"  have  but  vague  and  shadowy 
notions  as  to  the  way  in  which  such  an  opera  is 
composed.  My  object  here  is  to  illustrate  the  way 
composers  work,  and  to  prove  that  the  creating  of  an 
opera  is  perhaps  the  most  difficult  and  marvellous 
achievement  of  the  human  intellect. 

Professor  Langhans  notes,  in  his  history  of  music, 
that  in  the  Middle  Ages,  as  late  as  Luther's  time,  it 
took  two  men  to  compose  the  simplest  piece  of 
music  :  one  who  conceived  the  melody,  and  the 
other  who   added    the   harmonic    accompaniment 


62  HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 

The  theoretical  writer,  Glareanus,  deliberately  ex- 
pressed his  opinion,  in  1547,  that  it  might  be  pos- 
sible to  unite  these  two  functions  in  one  person,  but 
that  one  would  rarely  find  the  inventor  of  a  melody 
able  to  work  it  out  artistically.  We  have  made 
much  progress  in  music  within  these  three  hundred 
years,  and  to-day  every  composer  is  not  only  ex- 
pected to  invent  his  own  harmonies  and  accompani- 
ments to  his  melodies,  but,  since  Wagner  set  the 
example,  composers  are  beginning  to  consider  it  in- 
cumbent on  them  to  write  their  own  librettos  ;  and, 
what  is  more  remarkable,  if  we  examine  biographies 
of  musicians  carefully  we  find  that,  even  be/ore 
Wagner,  not  a  few  composers  assisted  in  the  prep- 
aration of  their  operatic  texts  ;  and  this  remark  ap- 
plies even  to  some  of  the  Italian  composers,  who  were 
proverbially  careless  regarding  their  librettos.  Ros- 
sini was,  perhaps,  too  indolent  to  devote  much  atten- 
tion to  his  texts,  and  he  was  apt  to  postpone  even 
the  musical  work  to  the  last  moment,  so  that  he 
sometimes  had  to  be  locked  up  in  his  room  by  his 
friends,  to  enable  him  to  finish  his  score  by  the  date 
named  in  his  contract  Yet  it  is  worthy  of  note 
that  during  the  composition  of  what  Rossini's  ad- 
mirers commonly  regard  as  his  best  and  most  char- 
acteristic work — the  "Barber  of  Seville" — he  lived 
in  the  same  house  with  his  librettist.  "The  ad- 
mirable unity  of  the  *  Barber,'  in  which  a  person 


HOW   COMPOSERS  WORK  63 

without  previous  information  on  the  subject  could 
scarcely  say  whether  the  words  were  written  for  the 
music  or  the  music  for  the  words,  may  doubtless," 
as  Mr.  Sutherland  Edwards  suggests,  "in  a  great 
measure  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  poet  and 
musician  were  always  together  during  the  composi- 
tion of  the  opera  ;  ready  mutually  to  suggest  and  to 
profit  by  suggestions." 

"  Donizetti,"  the  same  writer  informs  us,  while  at 
the  Bologna  Lyceum,  "occupied  himself  not  only 
with  music,  but  also  with  drawing,  architecture,  and 
even  poetry  ;  and  that  he  could  turn  out  fair  enough 
verses  for  musical  purposes  was  shown  when,  many 
years  afterward,  he  wrote — so  rapidly  that  the  word 
'improvise'  might  here  be  used — for  the  benefit  of  a 
manager  in  distress,  both  words  and  music  of  a  little 
one-act  opera,  called  ■  H  Campanello '  founded  on 
the  '  Sonnette  de  Nuit '  of  Scribe.  Donizetti  also 
arranged  the  librettos  of  '  Betty  '  and  '  The  Daugh- 
ter of  the  Regiment,'  and  of  the  last  act  of  •  Lucia  ■ 
he  not  only  wrote  the  words  but  designed  the 
scenes." 

Concerning  Verdi,  Arthur  Pougin  says :  "  It  is 
not  generally  known  that,  virtually,  Verdi  is  him- 
self the  author  of  all  his  poems.  That  is  to  say,  not 
only  does  he  always  choose  the  subject  of  his  operas, 
but,  in  addition  to  that,  he  draws  out  the  sketch  of 
the  libretti,  indicates  all  the  situations,  constructs 


64  HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 

them  almost  entirely  as  far  as  regards  the  general 
plan,  brings  his  personages  and  his  characters  on 
the  stage  in  such  a  way  that  his  collaborateur  has 
simply  to  follow  his  indications  to  bring  the  whole 
together,  and  to  write  the  verses." 

One  of  Verdi's  poetic  assistants  was  Francesco 
Piave,  who  supplied  the  verses  for  "La  Traviata," 
"  Ernani "  and  several  other  of  his  operas.  He  was, 
Pougin  informs  us,  "a  tolerably  bad  poet,  quite 
wanting  in  invention,"  but  he  had  the  most  impor- 
tant quality  (from  Verdi's  point  of  view)  "of  effacing 
himself  completely,  of  putting  aside  every  kind  of 
personal  vanity  and  of  following  entirely  the  indica- 
tions and  the  desires  of  the  composer,  cutting  out 
this,  paring  down  that,  shortening  or  expanding  at 
the  will  of  the  latter — giving  himself  up,  in  short, 
to  all  his  exigencies,  whatever  they  might  be." 

A  question  having  arisen  some  years  ago,  as  to 
the  origin  of  the  libretto  of  "  Aida,"  the  author  of 
it,  M.  du  Locle,  wrote  to  a  Roman  paper  that  the 
first  idea  of  the  poem  belongs  to  the  celebrated 
Egyptologist,  Mariette  Bey.  He  adds :  "I  wrote 
the  libretto,  scene  by  scene,  phrase  by  phrase,  in 
French  prose,  at  Busseto,  under  the  eye  of  the 
maestro,  who  took  a  large  share  in  the  work.  The 
idea  of  the  finale  of  the  last  act,  with  its  two  stages, 
one  above  the  other,  belongs  especially  to  him." 

The  libretto  for  Verdi's  last  work,  "  Otello,"  was 


HOW   COMPOSERS    WORK  65 

prepared  by  Bo'ito,  who  had  previously  assisted  him 
in  rearranging  his  "  Simon  Boccanegra,"  and  who 
also  wrote  the  poem  of  "La  Gioconda  "  for  Ponchi- 
elli.  Bo'ito  is  a  thorough  believer  in  Wagner's  doc- 
trine that  every  composer  should  write  his  own 
opera  books,  and  he  followed  this  rule  in  his  inter- 
esting opera  "  Mefistofele." 

Mozart  was  altogether  too  careless  in  accepting 
librettos  unworthy  of  his  genius.  Yet  occasionally 
he  took  the  liberty  to  improve  the  stuff  that  was 
submitted  to  him.  As  the  learned  librarian,  Herr 
Pohl,  remarks,  "  In  the  '  Entftihrung '  it  is  interest- 
ing to  observe  the  alterations  in  Bretzner's  libretto 
which  Mozart's  practical  acquaintance  with  the  stage 
has  dictated,  to  the  author's  great  disgust.  Indeed, 
Osmin,  one  of  the  most  original  characters,  is  en- 
tirely his  own  creation,  at  Fischer's  suggestion." 

Weber  resembled  Wagner,  among  other  things, 
in  the  habit  of  carrying  plans  for  operas  in  his  head 
for  many  years.  Thus  we  read  that  while  on  the 
look  out  for  a  subject  for  an  opera  he  and  Dusch  hit 
upon  "  Der  Freischtitz,"  a  story  by  Apel,  then  just 
published.  At  the  time,  however,  it  did  not  get  be- 
yond the  beginning  ;  and  not  till  seven  years  later 
did  Weber  begin  the  work  whicii  made  his  reputa- 
tion, a  work  which  in  Dresden,  where  it  was  first 
produced,  has  had  already  more  than  a  thousand 
performances,  and  which  even  in  London  was  at 
5 


66  HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 

one  time  played  simultaneously  at  three  theatres. 
When  he  finally  did  begin  his  work  on  the  "  Frei- 
schiitz  "  the  libretto  he  used  was  by  another  author, 
Herr  Kind,  a  man  of  considerable  dramatic  ability, 
but  who — perhaps  for  that  very  reason — was  subse- 
quently so  mortified  by  the  fact  that  Weber's  supe- 
rior genius  caused  his  music  to  receive  the  lion's 
share  of  the  public's  attention,  that  he  refused  to 
write  another  libretto  for  him.  This  was  unfortu- 
nate, for,  as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  Weber  fell  into 
the  hands  of  a  Leipsic  blue  stocking,  Wilhelmine 
von  Chezy,  whose  literary  gifts  were  not  of  the  most 
brilliant  order.  She  submitted  several  subjects  to 
him,  from  which  he  selected  "  Euryanthe  ; "  but  her 
sketch  proved  so  unsatisfactory  that  he  altered  it 
entirely  and  compelled  her  to  work  it  over  nine 
times  before  he  was  sufficiently  satisfied  with  it  to 
set  it  to  music.  The  libretto  for  his  last  opera, 
"  Oberon,"  was  prepared  for  him  in  London,  but  the 
subject,  as  usual,  was  his  own  choice  and  was  based 
on  Wieland's  famous  poem  of  that  name.  Weber's 
rare  artistic  conscientiousness  is  indicated  by  the 
fact  that  at  this  time,  although  he  felt  that  his  end 
was  approaching,  he  set  to  work  to  learn  the  Eng- 
lish language  in  order  to  avoid  mistakes  in  adapting 
his  melodies  to  the  accent  of  the  words  and  the 
spirit  of  the  text. 
Having  now  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  manner  in 


HOW  COMPOSERS  WOBK  67 

which  the  great  composers  find  subjects  for  their 
operas,  and  elaborate  them,  with  or  without  the  as- 
sistance of  poets,  we  may  go  on  to  consider  the 
sources  of  the  musical  inspiration  which  provides 
appropriate  melodies  and  harmonies  for  these  texts. 
Experience  shows  conclusively  that  the  most  power- 
ful stimulant  of  the  composer's  brain  is  the  posses- 
sion of  a  really  poetic  and  dramatic  text.  To  take 
only  one  instance — it  surely  cannot  be  a  mere  coin- 
cidence that  the  best  works  of  four  great  compos- 
ers— Spohr,  Berlioz,  Gounod,  and  Schumann,  are 
based  on  the  story  of  "  Faust."  And  Schumann,  in 
one  of  his  private  letters,  indicates  very  clearly  why 
his  "Faust"  is  such  an  inspired  composition. 
Speaking  of  a  performance  of  this  work  he  says : 
"It  appeared  to  make  a  good  impression — better 
than  my  '  Paradise  and  Peri ' — no  doubt  in  conse- 
quence of  the  superior  grandeur  of  the  poem  which 
aroused  my  powers  also  to  a  greater  effort." 

More  significant  still  are  the  words  which  Weber 
wrote  to  Frau  von  Chezy  when  she  was  writing  the 
libretto  f or  "  Euryanthe  ; "  which  he  intended  to 
make  better  than  all  his  previous  works.  "  When 
you  begin  to  elaborate  the  text,"  he  wrote  ;  "  I  en- 
treat you  by  all  that  is  sacred  to  task  me  with  the 
most  difficult  kinds  of  metre,  unexpected  rhythms, 
etc.,  which  will  force  my  thoughts  into  new  paths 
and  draw  them  out  of  their  hiding-places." 


68  HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK 

In  one  of  his  theoretical  essays,  Wagner  empha- 
sizes the  value  of  a  good  poem  in  kindling  the  spark 
of  inspiration  in  a  composer's  mind  by  exclaiming  : 
"Oh,  how  I  adore  and  honor  Mozart  because  he 
found  it  impossible  to  compose  for  his  ■  Titus '  as 
good  music  as  for  his  (  Don  Juan,'  or  for  his  •  Cosl 
fan  Tutte '  as  good  music  as  for  '  Figaro.' "  Mozart, 
he  adds,  always  wrote  music,  but  good  music  he 
could  only  write  when  he  was  inspired,  and  when 
this  inspiration  was  supplied  by  a  subject  worthy 
of  being  wedded  to  his  muse. 

No  doubt  Wagner  was  right  in  maintaining  that 
Mozart's  operas  contain  his  best  music.  Where 
among  all  his  purely  instrumental  works  is  any- 
thing to  be  found  as  inspired  as  the  music  in  the 
scenes  where  the  ghostly  statue  nods  at  Don  Juan, 
and  subsequently  where  it  enters  his  room  and 
clutches  his  hand  in  its  marble  grasp  ?  I  venture 
to  add  that  even  Beethoven,  although  he  is  not 
generally  regarded  as  an  operatic  composer  par  ex- 
cellence, and  although  his  fame  chiefly  rests  on  his 
symphonies  and  other  instrumental  works,  never- 
theless composed  his  most  inspired  music  in  con- 
nection with  his  one  opera  "Fidelio."  I  refer  to 
the  third  "Leonora"  overture,  and  to  the  music  in 
the  prison  scene,  where  the  digging  of  the  grave  is 
depicted  in  the  orchestra  with  a  realism  worthy  of 
Wagner,  and  where  the  music  when  Leonora  levels 


HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK  69 

her  pistol  at  the  villain  reaches  a  climax  as  thrilling 
as  is  to  be  found  in  any  dramatic  work,  musical  or 
literary.  Obviously,  it  was  the  intensely  dramatic 
situation  which  here  inspired  Beethoven  to  the 
grandest  effort  of  his  genius. 

It  has  often  been  asserted  that  the  best  numbers 
in  "  Fidelio  "  were  directly  inspired  in  Beethoven 
by  the  emotional  exaltation  resulting  from  one  of 
his  unhappy  love  affairs.  Mr.  Thayer  doubts  this 
story,  because  he  could  not  find  anything  in  Bee- 
thoven's sketch-books  corroborating  it ;  but  even  if 
it  should  be  a  myth,  there  are  many  well  authenti- 
cated facts  which  show  that  Beethoven,  like  other 
composers,  owed  many  of  his  best  ideas  to  the  magic 
influence  of  love  in  stimulating  his  mental  powers. 
He  dedicated  thirty-nine  compositions  to  thirty-six 
different  women,  and  it  is  well  known  that  he  was 
constantly  falliDg  in  love,  had  made  up  his  mind 
several  times  to  marry,  and  was  twice  refused.  Fe- 
male beauty  always  made  a  deep  impression  on 
him,  and  Marx  relates  that  "  even  in  his  later  years 
he  was  fond  of  looking  at  pretty  faces,  and  used  to 
stand  still  in  the  street  and  gaze  after  them  with  his 
eyeglasses  till  they  were  out  of  sight;  if  anyone 
noticed  this  he  smiled  and  looked  confused,  but  not 
annoyed.  His  little  Werther  romance  he  had  lived 
at  an  early  age  in  Bonn.  In  Vienna,  he  is  said  to 
have  had  more  than  one  love  affair  and  to  have 


70  HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 

made  an  occasional  conquest  which  would  have  been 
difficult  if  not  impossible  to  many  an  Adonis." 

Weber's  "  Freischtltz  "  doubtless  owes  much  of 
its  beauty  to  the  fact  that  it  was  written  but  a  few 
months  before  the  composer's  marriage.  In  one  of 
his  letters  to  his  betrothed  he  writes,  "Yesterday 
I  composed  all  the  forenoon  and  thought  of  you 
very  often,  for  I  was  at  work  on  a  scene  of  Agatha, 
in  which  I  still  cannot  attain  all  the  fire,  longing,  and 
passion  that  vaguely  float  before  me."  And  his  son 
testifies  that  Weber's  love  influenced  all  his  work  at 
the  time.  "  It  was  the  reason,"  he  says,  "  that  Weber 
took  to  heart,  above  everything  else,  the  part  of 
Aennchen,  in  which  he  saw  an  embodiment  of  his 
bride's  special  talent  and  characteristics,  and  it  was 
under  the  fostering  stimulus  of  this  warm  feeling 
that  he  allowed  those  parts  of  the  opera  in  which 
Aennchen  appears  to  ripen  first.  The  first  note  which 
he  wrote  down  for  the  'Freischtitz'  belongs  in 
the  duo  between  Aennchen  and  Agatha."  He  adds 
that  his  father,  while  composing,  actually  saw  his 
bride  in  his  mind's  eye,  and  heard  her  sing  his  mel- 
odies, and  accordingly  as  this  imaginary  vocalist  nod- 
ded approval  or  shook  her  head,  he  was  led  to  retain 
or  reject  certain  musical  ideas. 

Schumann's  letters  contain  a  superabundance  of  evi- 
dence showing  how  love  suggested  to  him  immortal 
musical  thoughts.     "I  have  discovered,"  he  writes  to 


HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK  71 

his  bride,  "that  nothing  transports  the  imagination  so 
readily  as  expectation  and  longing  for  something,  ' 
as  was  again  the  case  during  the  last  few  days,  when 
I  was  awaiting  a  letter  from  you,  and  meanwhile 
composed  whole  volumes — strange,  curious,  solemn 
things — how  you  will  open  your  eyes  when  you  play 
them.  Indeed,  I  am  at  present  so  full  of  musical 
ideas  that  I  often  feel  as  if  I  should  explode." 
This  was  in  1838,  two  years  before  his  marriage. 
"  Schumann  himself  admits,"  as  Professor  Spitta 
remarks,  "  that  his  compositions  for  the  piano  writ- 
ten during  the  period  of  his  courtship  reveal  much 
of  his  personal  experiences  and  feelings,  and  his  cre- 
ative work  of  1840  is  of  a  very  striking  character. 
In  this  single  year  he  wrote  over  a  hundred  songs, 
the  best  he  ever  gave  to  the  world,  and,"  as  Profes- 
sor Spitta  continues,  "  when  we  look  through  the 
words  of  his  songs,  it  is  clear  that  here,  more  than 
anywhere,  love  was  the  prompter — love  that  had 
endured  so  long  a  struggle,  and  at  last  attained 
the  goal  of  its  desires.  This  is  confirmed  by  the 
'Myrthen,'  which  he  dedicated  to  the  lady  of  his 
choice,  and  the  twelve  songs  from  Ruckert's  '  Spring- 
time of  Love ' — which  were  written  conjointly  by  the 
two  lovers." 

The  gay  and  genial  Haydn  appears  to  have  been 
as  great  a  favorite  of  women  as  Beethoven,  and  he 
doubtless  owed  some  of  his  inspirations  to  their  in- 


72  HOW  COMPOSERS    WORK 

fluence  upon  his  susceptible  heart.  "He  always  con- 
sidered himself  an  ugly  man,"  Herr  Pohl  writes,  "  and 
could  not  understand  how  so  many  handsome  women 
fell  in  love  with  him  ;  '  at  any  rate,'  he  used  to  say, 
*  they  were  not  tempted  by  my  beauty,'  though  he 
admitted  that  he  liked  looking  at  a  pretty  woman, 
and  was  never  at  a  loss  for  a  compliment." 

Everybody  has  heard  of  the  marvellous  effect  pro- 
duced on  Berlioz's  ardent  imagination  by  the  Juliet 
of  Miss  Smithson.  He  relates  in  his  memoirs  that 
an  English  critic  said  that  after  seeing  Miss  Smith- 
son  in  Juliet  he  had  cried  out,  "I  will  marry  that 
woman,  and  write  my  grandest  symphony  on  this 
play."  "  I  did  both  things,"  he  adds,  "  but  I  never 
said  anything  of  the  sort."  It  is  in  "  Lelio  "  that 
the  story  of  his  love  is  embodied ;  and  other  com- 
positions of  his  might  be  mentioned  which  were 
simply  the  overflow  of  his  passions. 

Poor  Schubert,  who  enjoyed  little  of  the  fame  and 
less  of  the  fortune  that  were  due  him  during  his 
brief  life,  and  who  was  as  unattractive  in  personal 
appearance  as  Haydn  and  Beethoven,  does  not  seem 
to  have  cared  as  much  for  women  as  most  other  com- 
posers. Nevertheless  he  fell  deeply  in  love  with  a 
countess,  who,  however,  was  too  young  to  recipro- 
cate his  feelings.  But  one  day  she  asked  him  why 
he  never  dedicated  any  of  his  compositions  to  her, 
whereupon  he  replied,    "Why  should  I?    Are  not 


HOW  COMPOSEES    WOEK  73 

all  my  compositions  dedicated  to  you  ?  M  This  was 
as  neat  a  compliment  as  Beethoven  once  made  Frau 
von  Arnim — an  incident  which  also  gives  us  a  glimpse 
of  his  manner  of  composing.  One  evening  at  a 
party  Beethoven  repeatedly  took  his  note-book  from 
his  pocket  and  wrote  a  few  lines  in  it.  Subsequently, 
when  he  was  alone  with  Frau  von  Arnim,  he  looked 
over  what  he  had  written  and  sang  it ;  whereupon 
he  exclaimed  :  "  There,  how  does  that  sound  ?  It  is 
yours  if  you  like  it ;  I  made  it  for  you,  you  inspired 
me  with  it ;  I  saw  it  written  in  your  eyes" 

Many  similar  cages  might  be  cited,  showing  that 
although  women  may  have  done  little  for  music  from 
a  creative  point  of  view,  they  are  indirectly  responsi- 
ble for  many  of  the  most  inspired  products  of  the 
great  composers.  And  the  moral  of  the  story  is 
that  a  young  musician,  as  soon  as  he  has  secured 
a  good  poetic  subject  for  a  song  or  an  opera,  should 
hasten  to  fall  in  love,  in  order  to  tune  his  heart- 
strings and  devotions  to  concert  pitch.  And  a  pa- 
triotic wag  might,  perhaps,  be  allowed  to  maintain 
that,  as  America  has  more  pretty  girls  than  any 
other  country  in  the  world,  it  is  easier  to  fall  in 
love  here  than  elsewhere,  and  that  there  is,  there- 
fore, no  excuse  whatever  for  American  composers  if 
they  do  not  soon  lead  the  world  in  musical  inspira- 
tion. 

Feminine  beauty,  however,  is  not  the  only  kind 


74  HOW  COMPOSERS   WORK 

of  beauty  that  arouses  dormant  musical  ideas  and 
brings  them  to  light.  The  beauty  of  nature  appeals 
as  strongly  to  musicians  as  to  poets,  and  is  responsi- 
ble for  many  of  their  inspirations.  When  Mendels- 
sohn visited  Fingal's  Cave,  he  wrote  a  letter  on  one 
of  the  Hebrides,  inclosing  twenty  bars  of  music  "  to 
show  how  extraordinarily  the  place  affected  me,"  to 
use  his  own  words.  "  These  twenty  bars,"  says  Sir 
George  Grove,  "  an  actual  inspiration,  are  virtually 
identical  with  the  opening  of  the  wonderful  over- 
ture which  bears  the  name  of  '  Hebrides '  or  '  Fin- 
gal's Cave.' "  And  an  English  admirer  of  Mendels- 
sohn, who  had  the  honor  of  entertaining  him  in  the 
country,  notes  how  deeply  he  entered  into  the 
beauty  of  the  hills  and  the  woods.  "His  way  of 
representing  them,"  he  says,  "was  not  with  the 
pencil ;  but  in  the  evenings  his  improvised  music 
would  show  what  he  had  observed  or  felt  in  the 
past  day.  The  piece  which  he  called  '  The  Kivulet,' 
which  he  wrote  at  that  time,  for  my  sister  Susan, 
will  show  what  I  mean ;  it  was  a  recollection  of  a 
real,  actual  rivulet. 

"  We  observed  "  he  continues,  "  how  natural  ob- 
jects seemed  to  suggest  music  to  him.  There  was 
in  my  sister  Honora's  garden  a  pretty  creeping 
plant,  new  at  that  time,  covered  with  little  trumpet- 
like flowers.  He  was  struck  with  it,  and  played  for 
her  the  music  which  (he  said)  the  fairies  might  play 


HOW   COMPOSERS    WORK  75 

on  those  trumpets.  When  he  wrote  out  the  piece 
he  drew  a  little  branch  of  that  flower  all  up  the 
margin  of  the  paper."  In  another  piece,  inspired 
by  the  sight  of  carnations,  they  found  that  Men- 
delssohn intended  certain  arpeggio  passages  "as  a 
reminder  of  the  sweet  scent  of  the  flower  rising 
up." 

Mozart,  as  many  witnesses  have  testified,  was  es- 
pecially attuned  to  composition  by  the  sight  of 
beautiful  scenery.  Rochlitz  relates  that  when  he 
travelled  with  his  wife  through  picturesque  regions 
he  gazed  attentively  and  in  silence  at  the  surround- 
ing sights ;  his  features,  which  usually  had  a  re- 
served and  gloomy,  rather  than  a  cheerful  expres- 
sion, gradually  brightened,  and  then  he  began  to 
sing,  or  rather  to  hum,  till  suddenly  he  exclaimed  : 
"If  I  only  had  that  theme  on  paper."  He  always 
preferred  to  live  in  the  country,  and  wrote  the 
greater  part  of  his  two  best  operas,  "  Don  Juan," 
and  "  The  Magic  Flute,"  in  one  of  those  picturesque 
little  garden  houses  which  are  so  often  seen  in  Aus- 
tria and  Germany.  In  one  of  these  airy  structures, 
he  confessed,  he  could  write  more  in  ten  days  than 
he  could  in  his  apartments  in  two  months. 

Berlioz  relates  somewhere  that  the  musical  ideas 
for  his  "  Faust "  came  to  him  unbidden  during  his 
rambles  among  Italian  hills.  Weber's  melodies  are 
so  much  like  fragrant  forest  flowers  that  one  feels 


76  HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 

sure  before  being  told  that  he  came  across  them  in 
the  woods  and  fields.  His  famous  pupil,  Sir  Julius 
Benedict,  relates  that  Weber  took  as  great  delight 
in  taking  his  friends  to  see  his  favorite  bits  of  land- 
scape, as  he  did  in  composing  a  fine  piece  of  music  ; 
and  he  adds  that  "  this  love  of  nature,  and  princi- 
pally of  forest  life,  may  explain  his  predilection,  in 
the  majority  of  his  operas,  for  hunting  choruses  and 
romantic  scenery." 

Eichard  Wagner  conceived  most  of  his  vigorous 
and  eloquent  leading  melodies  during  his  rambles 
among  the  picturesque  environs  of  Bayreuth,  or  the 
sublime  snowpeaks  of  Switzerland.  How  he  elabo- 
rated them  we  shall  see  later  on.  Of  Beethoven's 
devotion  to  nature  many  curious  anecdotes  are 
told  by  his  contemporaries,  A  harp  manufacturer 
named  Stumpffmet  him  in  1823  and  wrote  an  ac- 
count of  his  visit  in  "The  Harmonicon,"  a  London 
journal,  in  which  occurs  this  passage  :  "  Beethoven 
is  a  capital  walker  and  delights  in  rambling  for  hours 
through  wild,  romantic  scenery.  I  am  told,  indeed, 
that  he  has  sometimes  been  out  whole  nights  on 
such  excursions,  and  is  often  absent  from  home  for 
several  days.  On  the  way  to  the  valley  [the  Hel- 
lenenthal,  near  the  Austrian  Baden]  he  often 
stopped  to  point  out  the  prettiest  views,  or  to  re- 
mark on  the  defects  of  the  new  buildings.  Then 
he  would  go  back  again  to  his  own  thoughts  and 


HOW   COMPOSERS    WORK  77 

hum  to  himself  in  an  incomprehensible  fashion; 
which,  I  heard,  was  his  fashion  of  composing." 

Professor  Klober,  a  well-known  artist  of  that 
period,  who  painted  Beethoven's  portrait,  relates 
that  he  often  met  Beethoven  during  his  walks  near 
Vienna.  "  It  was  most  interesting  to  watch  him," 
he  writes  ;  "  how  he  would  stand  still  as  if  listening, 
with  a  piece  of  music  paper  in  his  hands,  look  up 
and  down  and  then  write  something.  Dont  had 
told  me  when  I  met  him  thus  not  to  speak  or  take 
any  notice,  as  he  would  be  very  much  embarrassed 
or  very  disagreeable.  I  saw  him  once,  when  I  was 
taking  a  party  to  the  woods,  clambering  up  to  an 
opposite  height  from  the  ravine  which  separated  us, 
with  his  broad-brimmed  felt  hat  tucked  under  his 
arm  ;  arrived  at  the  top,  he  threw  himself  down 
full  length  and  gazed  long  into  the  sky." 

Another  contemporary  of  Beethoven,  G.  F.  Treit- 
schke,  gives  us  an  interesting  glimpse  of  Beetho- 
ven's manner  of  creating  and  improvising.  Treit- 
schke  had  been  asked  to  write  the  text  for  a  new 
aria  that  was  to  be  introduced  in  "  Fidelio  "  when 
that  opera  was  revived  at  Vienna  in  1814.  Beetho- 
ven called  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  and  asked 
how  the  text  of  the  aria  was  getting  on.  Treitschke 
had  just  finished  it,  and  handed  it  to  him.  Beet- 
hoven read  it  over,  he  continues,  "  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  humming  as  usual,  instead  of  sing- 


78  HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK 

ing— and  opened  the  piano.  My  wife  had  often 
asked  him  in  vain  to  play  ;  but  now,  putting  the 
text  before  him,  he  began  a  wonderful  improvisa- 
tion, which,  unfortunately,  there  were  no  magic 
means  of  recording.  From  this  fantasy  he  seemed 
to  conjure  the  theme  of  the  aria.  Hours  passed  but 
Beethoven  continued  to  improvise.  Supper,  which 
he  intended  to  share  with  us,  was  served,  but  he 
would  not  be  disturbed.  Late  in  the  evening  he 
embraced  me  and,  without  having  eaten  anything, 
hurried  home.  The  following  day  the  piece  was 
ready  in  all  its  beauty." 

This  anecdote  appears  to  indicate  that  Beethoven 
sometimes  composed  at  the  piano.  Meyerbeer,  it 
is  said,  always  composed  at  his  instrument,  and 
there  is  a  story  that  he  used  to  jot  down  the  ideas 
of  other  composers  at  the  opera  and  concerts,  and, 
by  thinking  and  playing  these  over,  gradually  evolve 
his  own  themes.  It  is  rather  more  surprising  to 
hear,  from  Herr  Pohl,  that  Haydn  sketched  all  his 
compositions  at  the  piano.  The  condition  of  the 
instrument,  he  adds,  had  its  effect  upon  him,  beauty 
of  tone  being  favorable  to  inspiration.  Thus  he 
wrote  to  Artaria  in  1788  :  "  I  was  obliged  to  buy  a 
new  forte-piano,  that  I  might  compose  your  clavier 
sonatas  particularly  well."  "  When  an  idea  struck 
him  he  sketched  it  out  in  a  few  notes  and  figures  ; 
this  would  be  his  morning's  work;  in  the  after- 


HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK  79 

noon  he  would  enlarge  this  sketch,  elaborating  it 
according  to  rule,  but  taking  pains  to  preserve  the 
unity  of  the  idea." 

Weber's  son  relates  that  it  was  his  father's  habit 
to  sit  at  the  window  on  summer  evenings  and  jot 
down  the  ideas  that  had  come  to  him,  during  his 
solitary  walks,  on  small  pieces  of  music  paper,  of 
which  a  large  number  were  usually  lying  on  his 
table.  "No  piano,"  he  adds,  "was  touched  on 
these  occasions,  for  his  ears  spontaneously  heard  a 
full  orchestra,  played  by  good  spirits,  while  he  wrote 
down  his  neat  little  notes."  And  Weber  himself 
remarks  in  one  of  his  essays  that,  "  the  tone  poet 
who  gets  his  ideas  at  the  piano  is  almost  always 
born  poor,  or  in  a  fair  way  of  delivering  his  faculties 
into  the  hands  of  the  common  and  commonplace. 
For  these  very  hands,  which,  thanks  to  constant 
practice  and  training,  finally  acquire  a  sort  of  inde- 
pendence and  will  of  their  own,  are  unconscious  ty- 
rants and  masters  over  the  creative  power.  How 
very  differently  does  he  create  whose  inner  ear  is 
judge  of  the  ideas  which  he  simultaneously  con- 
ceives and  criticises.  This  mental  ear  grasps  and 
holds  fast  the  musical  visions,  and  is  a  divine  secret 
belonging  to  music  alone,  incomprehensible  to  the 
layman." 

Mozart  had  already  learned  to  compose  without  a 
piano  when  he  was  only  six  years  old  ;  and,  as  Mr. 


80  HOW  COMPOSERS   WORK 

E.  Holmes  remarks,  "  having  commenced  compost 
tion  without  recourse  to  the  clavier,  his  powers  in 
mental  music  constantly  increased,  and  he  soon  im- 
agined effects  of  which  the  original  types  existed 
only  in  his  brain." 

Schumann  wrote  to  a  young  musician  in  1848 : 
"  Above  all  things,  persist  in  composing  mentally, 
without  the  aid  of  the  instrument.  Turn  over  your 
melodic  idea  in  your  head  until  you  can  say  to 
yourself:  'It  is  well  done.'"  Elsewhere  he  says: 
"  If  you  can  pick  out  little  melodies  at  the  piano, 
you  will  be  pleased  ;  but  if  they  come  to  you  spon- 
taneously, away  from  the  piano,  you  will  have  more 
reason  to  be  delighted,  for  then  the  inner  tone-sense 
is  aroused  to  activity.  The  fingers  must  do  what 
the  head  wishes,  and  not  vice  versa."  And  again  he 
says  :  "  If  you  set  out  to  compose,  invent  everything 
in  your  head.  If  the  music  has  emanated  from  your 
soul,  if  you  have  felt  it,  others  will  feel  it  too." 

Schumann  had  discovered  the  superiority  of 
the  mental  method  of  composing  from  experience. 
In  a  letter  dated  1838  he  writes  concerning  his 
"Davidstanze  :  "  "  If  I  ever  was  happy  at  the  piano 
it  was  when  I  composed  these  pieces  ; "  and  it  was 
well  known  that  up  to  1839  "  he  used  to  compose 
sitting  at  the  instrument."  We  have  also  just  seen 
how  Beethoven  practically  composed  one  of  his 
"  Fidelio  "  arias  at  the  piano.     Nor  was  this  by  any 


HOW   COMPOSERS  WORK  81 

means  an  isolated  instance.  To  cite  only  one  more 
case  :  Kies  relates  that  one  afternoon  he  took  a  walk 
with  Beethoven,  returning  at  eight  o'clock.  "  While 
we  were  walking,"  he  continues,  "  Beethoven  had 
constantly  hummed,  or  almost  howled,  up  and  down 
the  scale,  without  singing  definite  notes.  When  I 
asked  him  what  it  was,  he  replied  that  a  theme  for 
the  last  allegro  of  the  sonata  had  come  into  his 
head.  As  soon  as  we  entered  the  room,  he  ran  to 
the  piano,  without  taking  off  his  hat.  I  sat  down  in 
a  corner,  and  he  had  soon  forgotten  me.  For  at 
least  an  hour  he  now  improvised  impetuously  on  the 
new  and  beautiful  finale  of  the  sonata  [opus  57]." 
Another  of  Beethoven's  contemporaries,  J.  Rus- 
sell, has  left  us  a  vivid  description  of  Beethoven 
when  thus  composing  at  the  piano,  or  improvising : 
"At  first  he  only  struck  a  few  short  detached 
chords,  as  if  he  were  afraid  of  being  caught  doing 
something  foolish  ;  but  he  soon  forgot  his  surround- 
ings, and  for  about  half  an  hour  lost  himself  in  an 
improvisation,  the  style  of  which  was  exceedingly 
varied,  and  especially  distinguished  by  sudden 
transitions.  The  amateurs  were  transported,  and 
to  the  uninitiated  it  was  interesting  to  observe  how 
his  inspirations  were  reflected  in  his  countenance. 
He  revelled  rather  in  bold,  stormy  moods  than  in 
soft  and  gentle  ones.  The  muscles  of  his  face 
swelled,  his  veins  were  distended,  his  eyes  rolled 
6 


82  HOW  COMPOSERS   WORK 

wildly,  his  mouth  trembled  convulsively,  and  he 
had  the  appearance  of  an  enchanter  mastered  by 
the  spirit  he  had  himself  conjured." 

Kussell  was  probably  one  of  the  witnesses  of 
whom  Richard  Wagner  remarked,  in  his  essay  on 
Beethoven,  that  they  have  testified  to  the  incompar- 
able impression  which  Beethoven  made  by  his  im- 
provisations at  the  piano.  And  Wagner  adds  the 
following  suggestive  words  :  "  The  regrets  that  there 
was  no  way  of  writing  down  and  preserving  these 
instantaneous  creations  cannot  be  regarded  as  un- 
reasonable, even  in  comparing  these  improvisations 
with  the  master's  greatest  works,  if  we  bear  in  mind 
the  fact,  taught  by  experience,  that  even  less  gifted 
musicians,  whose  written  compositions  are  not  free 
from  stiffness  and  inelegance,  sometimes  positively 
amaze  us  by  the  quite  unexpected  and  fertile  inven- 
tiveness which  they  display  while  improvising." 

A  similar  remark  was  made  by  De  Quincey,  in 
pointing  out  the  spontaneous  origin  of  some  of  his 
essays :  "  Performers  on  the  organ,"  he  says,  "  so 
far  from  finding  their  own  impromptu  displays  to 
fall  below  the  more  careful  and  premeditated  efforts, 
on  the  contrary  have  oftentimes  deep  reason  to 
mourn  over  the  escape  of  inspirations  and  ideas  born 
from  the  momentary  fervors  of  inspiration,  but  fugi- 
tive and  irrevocable  as  the  pulses  in  their  own  flying 
fingers." 


HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK  83 

By  way  of  illustrating  this  thesis  a  few  more  cases 
may  be  cited.  Mozart  used  to  sit  up  late  at  night, 
improvising  for  hours  at  the  piano,  and,  according 
to  one  witness,  "  these  were  the  true  hours  of  crea- 
tion of  his  divine  melodies,"  a  statement  which,  how- 
ever, we  shall  presently  see  reason  to  modify  some- 
what. Schubert  never  improvised  in  public  like 
Mozart,  but  only  "  in  the  intervals  of  throwing  on 
his  clothes,  or  at  other  times  when  the  music  within 
was  too  strong  to  be  resisted,"  as  Mr. Grove  re- 
marks. What  an  inestimable  privilege  it  must  have 
been  to  witness  the  spontaneous  overflow  of  so  rich 
a  genius  as  Schubert !  And  once  more,  Max  Ma- 
ria von  Weber  writes  that  his  father's  improvisations 
on  the  piano  were  like  delightful  dreams.  "All 
who  had  the  good  fortune  to  hear  him,"  he  says, 
"  testify  that  the  impression  of  his  playing  was  like 
an  Elysian  frenzy,  which  elevates  a  man  above  his 
sphere  and  makes  him  marvel  at  the  glories  of  his 
own  soul." 

In  reading  such  enthusiastic  descriptions — and 
musical  biographies  are  full  of  them — we  cannot 
but  echo  De  Quincey  and  Wagner  in  regretting  that 
there  has  been  no  shorthand  method  of  taking  down 
and  preserving  these  wonderful  improvisations  of  the 
great  masters.  Future  generations  will  be  more 
favored,  if  Mr.  Edison's  improved  phonograph  ful- 
fils the  promises  made  of  it     For  by  simply  plac- 


84  HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 

ing  one  of  these  instruments  near  the  piano  it  will 
be  possible  hereafter  to  preserve  every  note  and 
every  accent  and  shade  of  expression,  and  reproduce 
it  subsequently  at  will.  And  not  only  will  momen- 
tary inspirations  be  thus  preserved,  but  musicians 
will  no  longer  be  compelled  to  do  all  the  manual 
labor  of  writing  down  their  compositions,  but  will 
be  able  to  follow  the  example  of  those  German  pro- 
fessors, who  when  they  wish  to  write  a  book,  simply 
engage  a  stenographer  to  take  down  their  lectures, 
which  they  then  revise  and  forward  to  the  publisher. 
True,  the  orchestration  will  always  have  to  be  done 
by  the  master's  own  hands,  but  in  other  respects 
musicians  of  the  future  will  be  as  greatly  benefited 
as  men  of  letters  by  the  new  phonograph  which,  it 
is  predicted,  will  create  as  great  a  revolution  in  so- 
cial affairs  as  the  telegraph  and  railroad  did  when 
first  introduced. 

The  charm  of  improvisation  lies,  of  course,  in  this, 
that  we  hear  a  composer  creating  and  playing  at  the 
same  time.  This  very  fact,  however,  ought  to  make 
us  cautious  not  to  overestimate  the  value  of  such  im- 
provisations. For  we  all  know  how  a  great  genius 
can  invest  even  a  commonplace  idea  with  charm  by 
his  manner  of  expressing  or  rendering  it.  It  is 
probable,  therefore,  that  in  most  cases  these  impro- 
visations, if  noted  down  and  played  by  others,  would 
not  make  as  deep  an  impression  as  the  regularly 


HOW  COMPOSERS    WORK  85 

written  compositions  of  the  great  masters.  It  is 
with  music  as  with  literature.  Schopenhauer  says 
that  there  are  three  classes  of  writers  :  The  first 
class,  which  is  very  numerous,  never  think  at  all,  but 
simply  reproduce  echoes  of  what  they  have  read  in 
books.  The  second  class,  somewhat  less  numerous, 
think  only  while  they  are  writing.  But  the  third 
class,  which  is  very  small,  only  write  after  thinking 
and  because  their  thoughts  clamor  for  utterance. 

If  we  apply  this  classification  to  music  we  see 
at  once  that  improvising  comes  under  the  second 
head  :  improvising  is  thinking  or  composing  while 
playing.  But  the  greatest  musical  ideas  are  those 
which  are  conceived  entirely  in  the  mind,  which 
needs  no  pen  or  piano  mechanically  to  stimulate  its 
creative  power.  Of  this  there  can  be  no  question, 
whatever.  With  an  almost  absolute  unanimity  we 
find  that  the  greatest  composers  conceived  their  im- 
mortal ideas  in  the  open  air,  where  there  was  no 
possibility  of  coaxing  them  out  of  an  instrument. 
And  not  only  is  the  bare  outline  thus  composed 
mentally,  but  the  whole  composition  with  all  its  in- 
volved harmonies  and  varied  orchestral  colors  is 
present  in  the  composer's  mind  before  he  puts  it 
down  on  paper.  The  composition  of  "Der  Frei- 
schiitz"  affords  a  remarkable  confirmation  of  this 
statement.  Weber  began  to  compose  this  opera 
mentally  on  February  23,  but  did  not  write  down  a 


86  HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK 

single  note  before  the  second  of  July.  That  is,  he 
kept  the  full  score  of  this  wonderful  work  in  his 
brain  for  more  than  four  months,  and,  as  his  son  re- 
marks, "  there  is  not  a  number  in  it  which  he  did 
not  work  over  ten  times  in  his  mind,  until  it  sounded 
satisfactory  and  he  could  say  to  himself  '  That's  it/ 
and  then  he  wrote  it  down  rapidly  without  hesitation 
and  almost  without  altering  a  note." 

This  power  of  elaborating  a  musical  score  in  the 
mind,  and  hearing  it  inwardly,  is  a  gift  which  un- 
musical people  find  it  difficult  to  comprehend,  and 
which  even  puzzles  many  musical  people.  Yet  it  is 
a  power  which  all  students  of  music  ought  to  pos- 
sess ;  and,  like  other  capacities,  it  can  be  easily  culti- 
vated and  strengthened. 

A  comparison  with  two  other  senses  will  throw 
some  light  on  the  matter.  Most  of  us  can,  by  think- 
ing fixedly  of  some  appetizing  dish,  recall  its  flavor 
sufficiently  to  start  a  nerve  current  and  stimulate 
the  salivary  glands.  The  image  of  the  flavor,  so  to 
speak,  makes  the  mouth  water.  What  do  we  do 
when  we  go  to  a  restaurant  and  look  over  the  bill  of 
fare  ?  We  simply,  on  reading  the  list,  recall  a  faint 
gastronomic  image,  as  it  were,  of  each  dish,  and  the 
one  which  is  most  vivid,  owing  to  the  peculiar  direc- 
tion of  the  appetite,  decides  our  choice. 

The  sense  of  sight  presents  many  curious  anal- 
ogies.   Mr.  Galton,  in  his  "Inquiries  into  Human 


HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK  87 

Faculty,"  gives  the  results  of  a  series  of  investiga- 
tions which  show  that  there  are  great  differences 
among  persons  of  distinction  in  various  kinds  of 
intellectual  work  in  the  power  of  recalling  to  the 
mind's  eye  clear  and  distinct  images  of  what  they 
have  seen.  Some,  for  instance,  in  thinking  of  the 
breakfast  table,  could  see  all  the  objects — kDives, 
plates,  dishes,  etc.,  in  the  mental  picture  as  bright 
as  in  the  actual  scene,  and  in  the  appropriate  colors  ; 
others  could  recall  only  very  dim  or  blurred  images 
of  the  scene,  or  none  at  all ;  and  all  stages,  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest  visualizing  power,  were 
represented  in  the  letters  he  received  on  the  sub- 
ject. 

Sometimes  these  mental  images  are  as  vivid  as 
the  actual  images,  or  even  more  vivid.  Everybody 
has  heard  the  story  of  Blake,  who,  when  he  was 
painting  a  portrait,  only  required  one  sitting,  be- 
cause subsequently  he  could  see  the  model  as  dis- 
tinctly as  if  he  were  actually  sitting  in  the  chair. 
Mrs.  Haweis  wrote  to  Mr.  Galton  that  all  her  life 
she  has  had  at  times  a  waking  vision  of  "a  flight  of 
pink  roses  floating  in  a  mass  from  right  to  left,"  and 
that  before  her  ninth  year  they  were  so  large  and 
brilliant  that  she  often  tried  to  touch  them ;  and 
their  scent,  she  adds,  was  overpowering. 

Much  has  beeu  written  regarding  the  remarkable 
feats  of  Zuckertort  and  Blackburn  who  can  play  as 


88  HOW   COMPOSERS  WORK 

many  as  sixteen  to  twenty  games  of  chess  at  once, 
and  blindfolded.  Of  course  the  only  way  they  can 
do  this  is  by  having  in  the  mind  a  clear  picture  of 
each  chess-board,  with  all  the  figures  arranged  in 
proper  order. 

Mr.  Galton  says  he  has  among  his  notes  "many 
cases  of  persons  mentally  reading  off  scores  when 
playing  the  pianoforte,  or  manuscripts  when  they 
are  making  speeches;"  and  he  knows  a  lady,  the 
daughter  of  an  eminent  musician,  who  often  im- 
agines she  hears  her  father's  playing.  "The  day  she 
told  me  of  it,"  he  says,  "the  incident  had  again  oc- 
curred. She  was  sitting  in  her  room  with  her  maid, 
and  she  asked  the  maid  to  open  the  door  that  she 
might  hear  .the  music  better.  The  moment  the  maid 
got  up  the  music  disappeared." 

It  is  obvious  that  this  case,  like  that  of  the  emi- 
nent painter  just  referred  to,  borders  closely  on  the 
hallucinations  of  the  insane,  and  Blake  did  become 
insane  subsequently.  But  usually  there  is  nothing 
abnormal  or  pathologic  in  the  power  of  mentally 
recalling  sights  or  sounds,  and  it  would  be  well  if 
everybody  cultivated  this  power.  Mr.  Galton  men- 
tions an  electrical  engineer  who  was  able  to  recall 
forms  with  great  precision,  but  not  color.  But  after 
some  exercise  of  his  color  memory  he  became  quite 
an  adept  in  that,  too,  and  declared  that  the  newly-ac- 
quired power  was  a  source  of  much  pleasure  to  him. 


HOW   COMPOSERS    WORK  89 

In  music  most  of  us  have  the  power  of  recalling  a 
simple  melody ;  and  who  has  not  been  tormented  at 
times  by  an  unbidden  melody  persistently  haunting 
his  ears  until  he  was  almost  ready  to  commit  sui- 
cide ?  But  to  recall  a  melody  at  will  with  any  par- 
ticular tone-color ;  i.e.,  to  imagine  it  as  being  played 
by  a  flute,  or  a  violin,  or  a  horn,  is  much  less  easy  ; 
and  still  more  difficult  is  it  to  hear  two  or  more 
notes  at  once  in  the  mind,  that  is  to  recall  harmo- 
nies. It  is  for  this  reason  that  people  of  primitive 
musical  taste  care  only  for  operas  which  are  full  of 
"tunes."  These  they  can  whistle  in  the  street  and 
be  happy,  while  the  harmonies  and  orchestral  colors 
elude  their  comprehension  and  memory.  Conse- 
quently they  call  these  works  "heavy,"  "scientific," 
or  "intellectual;"  whereas  if  they  took  pains  to 
educate  their  musical  imaginations,  they  would  soon 
revel  in  the  magic  harmonies  of  modern  operas, 
with  their  infinite  variety  of  gorgeous  orchestral 
colors. 

Every  student  of  music  should  carefully  heed 
Schumann's  advice.  "  Exercise  your  imagination," 
he  says,  "  so  that  you  may  acquire  the  power  of  re- 
membering not  only  the  melody  of  a  composition, 
but  also  the  harmonies  which  accompany  it."  And 
again  he  says,  "You  must  not  rest  until  you  are 
able  to  understand  music  on  paper."  I  remember 
that,  as  a  small  boy,  I  used  to  wonder  at  my  father, 


90  HOW  COMPOSERS   WORK 

who  often  sat  in  a  corner  all  the  evening  looking 
over  the  score  of  an  opera  or  symphony.  And  I  was 
very  much  surprised  at  the  time  when  he  informed 
me  that  this  simple  reading  of  the  score  gave  him 
almost  as  vivid  a  pleasure  as  if  he  heard  it  with  full 
orchestra.  This  power  of  hearing  music  with  the 
eyes,  as  it  were,  is  common  to  all  thorough  musi- 
cians, and  is,  of  course,  most  highly  developed  in 
the  great  composers.  Schumann  even  alludes  to 
the  opinion,  which  some  one  had  expressed,  that  a 
thorough  musician  ought  to  be  able,  on  listening 
for  the  first  time  to  a  complicated  orchestral  piece, 
to  see  it  bodily  as  a  score  before  his  eyes.  He 
adds,  however,  that  this  is  the  greatest  feat  that 
could  be  imagined  ;  and  I,  for  my  part,  doubt  whe- 
ther even  the  marvellously  comprehensive  mind 
of  a  musical  genius  would  be  able  to  accomplish 
it. 

These  facts  illustrate  the  manner  in  which  com- 
posers, being  virtuosi  of  the  musical  imagination, 
are  able  to  elaborate  mentally,  and  keep  in  the 
memory,  a  complete  operatic  or  symphonic  score, 
just  as,  for  example,  Alexander  Dumas,  when  he 
wished  to  write  a  new  novel,  used  to  hire  a  yacht 
and  sail  on  Southern  waters  for  several  days,  lying 
on  his  back — which,  by  the  way,  is  an  excellent 
method  of  starting  a  train  of  thought — and  thus  ar^ 
ranging  all  the  details  of  the  plot  in  his  mind. 


HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK  91 

The  exact  way  in  which  original  ideas  come  into 
the  mind  is,  of  course,  a  mystery  in  music  as  in 
literature.  Every  genius  passes  through  a  period 
of  apprenticeship,  in  which  he  assimilates  the  dis- 
coveries of  his  predecessors,  reminiscences  of  which 
make  up  the  bulk  of  his  early  works.  Everybody 
knows  how  Mozartish,  e.g.,  Beethoven's  first  sym- 
phony is,  and  how  much  in  turn  Mozart's  early 
works  smack  of  Haydn.  Gradually,  as  courage 
comes  with  years,  the  gifted  composer  sets  out  for 
unexplored  forests  and  mountain  ranges,  attempt- 
ing to  scale  summits  which  none  of  his  predecessors 
had  trod.  I  say,  as  courage  comes,  for  in  music, 
strange  to  say,  it  requires  much  courage  to  give  the 
world  an  entirely  new  thought.  An  original  com- 
poser needs  not  only  the  courage  that  is  common  to 
all  explorers,  but  he  must  invariably  come  back  pre- 
pared to  face  the  accusation  that  his  new  territory  is 
nothing  but  a  howling  wilderness  of  discords.  This 
has  been  the  case  quite  recently  with  Wagner,  as  it 
was  formerly  with  Schumann,  Beethoven,  Mozart, 
the  early  Italian  composers,  and  many  others,  in- 
cluding even  Bossini,  who  certainly  did  not  deviate 
very  far  from  the  beaten  paths.  Seyfried  relates 
that  when  Beethoven  came  across  articles  in  which 
he  was  criticised  for  violating  established  rules  of 
composition,  he  used  to  rub  his  hands  gleefully  and 
burst  out  laughing.   "Yes,  yes !  "  he  exclaimed,  "that 


92  HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK 

amazes  them,  and  makes  them  put  their  heads  to- 
gether, because  they  have  not  seen  it  in  any  of  their 
text-books." 

Fortunately  for  their  own  peace  of  mind,  the 
majority  of  the  minor  composers  never  get  beyond 
a  mere  rearrangement  of  remembered  melodies  and 
modulations.  Their  minds  are  mere  galleries  of 
echoes.  They  write  for  money  or  temporary  no- 
toriety, and  not  because  their  brains  teem  with 
ideas  that  clamor  for  utterance.  The  pianist  Hum- 
mel was  one  of  this  class  of  composers.  But  what- 
ever his  short-comings,  he  had  at  least,  as  Wag- 
ner admits,  the  virtue  of  frankness.  For  when 
he  was  asked  one  day  what  thoughts  or  images  he 
had  in  his  mind  when  he  composed  a  certain  con- 
certo, he  replied  that  he  had  been  thinking  of  the 
eighty  ducats  which  his  publisher  had  promised 
him ! 

Yet  even  the  greatest  composers  cannot  always 
command  new  thoughts  at  will,  and  it  is  therefore 
of  interest  to  note  what  devices  some  of  them  re- 
sorted to  to  rouse  their  dormant  faculties.  Weber's 
only  pupil,  Sir  Julius  Benedict,  relates  that  Weber 
spent  many  mornings  in  "  learning  by  heart  the 
words  of  'Euryan the,'  which  he  studied  until  he 
made  them  a  portion  of  himself,  his  own  creation, 
as  it  were.  His  genius  would  sometimes  lie  dor- 
mant during  his  frequent  repetitions  of  the  words, 


HOW   COMPOSERS    WORK  93 

and  then  the  idea  of  a  whole  musical  piece  would 
flash  upon  his  mind,  like  the  bursting  of  light  into 
darkness." 

I  have  already  referred  to  the  manner  in  which 
Weber,  while  composing  certain  parts  of  the  "  Frei- 
schiitz,"  got  his  imagination  into  the  proper  state 
of  creative  frenzy  by  picturing  to  himself  his  bride 
as  if  she  were  singing  new  arias  for  him.  Now,  in 
one  of  Wagner's  essays  there  is  a  curious  passage 
which  seems  to  indicate  that  Wagner  habitually 
conjured  his  characters  before  his  mental  vision  and 
made  them  sing  to  him,  as  it  were,  his  original 
melodies.  He  advises  a  young  composer  who  wishes 
to  follow  his  example  never  to  select  a  dramatic 
character  for  whom  he  does  not  entertain  a  warm 
interest.  "He  should  divest  him  of  all  theatrical 
apparel,"  he  continues,  "and  then  imagine  him  in 
a  dim  light,  where  he  can  only  see  the  expression 
of  his  eyes.  If  these  speak  to  him,  the  figure  itself 
is  liable  presently  to  make  a  movement,  which  will 
perhaps  alarm  him — but  to  which  he  must  submit ; 
at  last  the  phantom's  lips  tremble,  it  opens  its 
mouth,  and  a  supernatural  voice  tells  him  something 
that  is  entirely  real,  entirely  tangible,  but  at  the 
same  time  so  extraordinary  (similar,  for  instance,  to 
what  the  ghostly  statue,  or  the  page  Cherubin  told 
Mozart)  that  it  arouses  him  from  his  dream.  The 
vision  has  disappeared  ;  but  his  inner  ear  continues 


94  HOW    COMPOSERS    WORK 

to  hear  ;  an  idea  has  occurred  to  him,  and  this  idea 
is  a  so-called  musical  motive" 

As  this  passage  implies,  and  as  he  has  elsewhere 
explained  at  length,  Wagner  looked  on  the  mental 
process  of  composing  as  something  analogous  to 
dreaming — as  a  sort  of  clairvoyance,  which  enables 
a  musician  to  dive  down  into  the  bottomless  mys- 
teries of  the  universe,  as  it  were,  thence  to  bring  up 
his  priceless  pearls  of  harmony.  According  to  the 
Kant-Schopenhauer  philosophy,  of  which  Wagner 
was  a  disciple,  objects  or  things  in  themselves  do 
not  exist  in  space  and  time,  which  are  mere  forms 
under  which  the  human  mind  beholds  them.  We 
cannot  conceive  anything  except  as  existing  either 
in  space  or  in  time.  But  there  is  one  exception,  ac- 
cording to  Wagner,  and  that  is  harmony.  Harmony 
exists  not  in  time,  for  the  time-element  in  music  is 
melody  ;  nor  does  it  exist  in  space,  for  the  simulta- 
neousness  of  tones  is  not  one  of  extension  or  space. 
Hence  our  harmonic  sense  is  not  hampered  by  the 
forms  of  the  mind,  but  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  things 
as  they  are  in  themselves — a  glimpse  of  the  world 
as  a  superior  spirit  would  behold  it.  And  hence 
the  mysterious  super  terrestrial  character  of  such 
new  harmonies  as  we  find  in  the  works  of  Wagner 
and  Chopin — which  are  unintelligible  to  ordinary 
mortals,  while  to  the  initiated  they  come  as  revela- 
tions of  a  new  world. 


HOW   COMPOSEES   WORK  95 

Without  feeling  the  necessity  of  accepting  all  the 
consequences  of  Wagner's  mystical  doctrine,  which 
I  have  thus  freely  paraphrased,  no  one  can  deny 
that  the  attitude  of  a  composer  in  the  moment  of 
inspiration  is  closely  analogous  to  that  known  as 
clairvoyance.  The  celebrated  vocalist,  Vogel,  tells 
an  anecdote  of  Schubert  which  shows  strikingly 
how  completely  this  composer  used  to  be  trans^ 
ported  to  another  world,  and  become  oblivious  of 
self,  when  creating.  On  one  occasion  Vogel  re- 
ceived from  Schubert  some  new  songs,  but  being 
otherwise  occupied  could  not  try  them  over  at  the 
moment.  When  he  was  able  to  do  so,  he  was  par- 
ticularly pleased  with  one  of  them,  but  as  it  was  too 
high  for  his  voice,  he  had  it  copied  in  a  lower  key. 
About  a  fortnight  afterwards  they  were  again  mak- 
ing music  together,  and  Vogel  placed  the  transposed 
song  before  Schubert  on  the  desk  of  the  piano. 
Schubert  tried  it  through,  liked  it,  and  said,  in  his 
Vienna  dialect,  "  I  say,  the  song's  not  so  bad ;  whose 
is  it  ?"  so  completely,  in  a  fortnight,  had  it  vanished 
from  his  mind.  Grove  recalls  the  fact  that  Sir 
Walter  Scott  once  similarly  attributed  a  song  of  his 
own  to  Byron;  "but  this  was  in  1828,  after  his 
mind  had  begun  to  fail." 

There  is  no  reason  for  doubting  Vogel's  story 
when  we  bear  in  mind  the  enormous  fertility  of 
Schubert.     He  was  unquestionably  the  most  spon- 


96  HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 

taneous  musical  genius  that  ever  lived.  Vogel,  who 
knew  him  intimately,  used  the  very  word  clairvoy- 
ance in  referring  to  his  divine  inspirations,  and  Sir 
George  Grove  justly  remarks  that,  "In  hearing 
Schubert's  compositions,  it  is  often  as  if  one  were 
brought  more  immediately  and  closely  into  contact 
with  music  itself,  than  is  the  case  in  the  works  of 
others ;  as  if  in  his  pieces  the  stream  from  the  great 
heavenly  reservoir  were  dashing  over  us,  or  flowing 
through  us,  more  directly,  with  less  admixture  of 
any  medium  or  channel,  than  it  does  in  those  of  any 
other  writer — even  of  Beethoven  himself.  And  this 
immediate  communication  with  the  origin  of  music 
really  seems  to  have  happened  to  him.  No  sketches, 
no  delay,  no  anxious  period  of  preparation,  no  revi- 
sion appear  to  have  been  necessary.  He  had  but  to 
read  the  poem,  to  surrender  himself  to  the  torrent, 
and  to  put  down  what  was  given  him  to  say,  as  it 
rushed  through  his  mind." 

Schubert  was  the  most  omnivorous  song  composer 
that  ever  lived.  He  could  hardly  see  a  poem — good, 
bad,  or  indifferent,  without  being  at  once  seized 
by  a  passionate  desire  to  set  it  to  music.  He  some- 
times wrote  half  a  dozen  or  more  songs  in  one  day, 
and  some  of  them  originated  under  the  most  pecul- 
iar circumstances.  The  serenade,  "  Hark,  hark,  the 
lark,"  for  instance,  was  written  in  a  beer  garden. 
Schubert  had  picked  up  a  volume  of  Shakespeare  ao- 


HOW   COMPOSERS    WORK  97 

cidentally  lying  on  the  table.  Presently  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Such  a  lovely  melody  has  come  into  my 
head,  if  I  only  had  some  paper."  One  of  his  friends 
drew  a  few  staves  on  the  back  of  a  bill  of  fare,  and  on 
this  Schubert  wrote  his  entrancing  song.  "The 
Wanderer,"  so  full  of  original  details,  was  written  in 
one  evening,  and  when  he  composed  his  '*  Rastlose 
Liebe,"  "  the  paroxysm  of  inspiration,"  as  Grove  re- 
marks, "  was  so  fierce  that  Schubert  never  forgot  it, 
but,  reticent  as  he  often  was,  talked  of  it  years  after- 
ward." 

These  stories  remind  one  of  an  incident  related  by 
Goethe,  who  one  day  suddenly  found  a  poem  spon- 
taneously evolved  in  his  mind,  and  so  complete  that 
he  ran  to  the  desk  and  wrote  it  diagonally  on  a  piece 
of  paper,  fearing  it  might  escape  him  if  he  took  time 
to  arrange  the  paper." 

In  a  word,  Schubert  improvised  with  the  pen,  and 
he  seems  to  have  been  an  exception  to  Schopen- 
hauer's rule,  that  the  greatest  writers  are  those 
whose  thoughts  come  to  them  before  writing,  and 
not  while  writing.  Nevertheless,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  much  of  the  music  which  Schubert 
composed  in  this  rapid  manner  is  poor  stuff; 
and  although  his  short  songs  are  generally  per- 
fect in  their  way,  his  longer  compositions  would 
have  gained  very  much  had  he  taken  the  trouble 
to  think  them  out  beforehand,  or  to  revise  and 


98  HOW  COMPOSERS   WORK 

condense  them  afterward,  which  he  very  rarely 
did. 

With  a  strange  perversity  and  persistency,  musical 
students  and  the  public  have  been  led  to  believe 
that  the  surest  sign  of  supreme  musical  inspiration 
is  the  power  to  dash  off  melodies  as  fast  as  the  pen 
can  travel.  Weber  relates  in  his  autobiographic 
sketch  that  he  wrote  the  second  act  of  one  of  his 
early  operas  in  ten  days,  and  adds,  significantly,  that 
this  was  "  one  of  the  many  unfortunate  results  of  the 
wonderful  anecdotes  about  great  masters,  which 
make  a  deep  impression  on  youthful  minds,  and  in- 
cite them  to  imitation." 

Mozart  has  always  been  pointed  to  by  preference 
to  show  how  a  really  great  master  shakes  his  mel- 
odies from  his  sleeves,  as  it  were.  Yet,  on  reading 
Jahn's  elaborate  account  of  Mozart's  life  and  works, 
nothing  strikes  one  more  than  the  emphasis  he  places 
on  the  amount  of  preliminary  labor  which  Mozart 
expended  on  his  compositions,  before  he  wrote  them 
down.  It  appears  to  be  a  well-authenticated  fact 
that  Mozart  postponed  writing  the  overture  to  "  Don 
Giovanni,"  until  the  midnight  preceding  the  evening 
when  the  opera  was  to  be  performed  in  public  ;  and 
that  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  score  was 
ready  for  the  copyist,  although  he  had  been  drinking 
punch  and  was  so  sleepy  that  his  wife  had  to  allow 
him  to  doze  for  two  hours,  and  kept  him  awake  the 


HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK  99 

rest  of  the  time  by  telling  him  funny  stories.  But 
this  incident  loses  much  of  its  marvellous  character, 
when  we  bear  in  mind  that  Mozart,  according  to  his 
usual  custom,  must  have  had  every  bar  of  the  over- 
ture worked  out  in  his  head,  before  he  sat  down  to 
commit  it  to  paper.  This  last  labor  was  almost 
purely  mechanical,  and  for  this  reason,  whenever  he 
was  engaged  in  writing  down  his  scores,  he  not  only 
worked  with  amazing  rapidity,  but  did  not  object  to 
conversation,  and  even  seemed  to  like  it ;  and  on 
one  occasion  when  at  work  on  an  opera,  he  wrote  as 
fast  as  his  hands  could  travel,  although  in  one  ad- 
joining room  there  was  a  singing  teacher,  in  another 
a  violinist,  and  opposite  an  oboeist,  all  in  full  blast ! 

Mozart  himself  tried  to  correct  the  notion,  prev- 
alent even  in  his  day,  that  he  composed  without 
effort — that  melodies  flowed  from  his  mind  as  water 
from  a  fountain.  During  one  of  the  rehearsals  of 
"Don  Giovanni,"  at  Prague,  he  remarked  to  the 
leader  of  the  orchestra:  "I  have  spared  neither 
pains  nor  labor  in  order  to  produce  something  ex- 
cellent for  Prague.  People  are  indeed  mistaken  in 
imagining  that  art  has  been  an  easy  matter  to  me. 
I  assure  you,  my  dear  friend,  no  one  has  expended 
so  much  labor  on  the  study  of  composition  as  I  have. 
There  is  hardly  a  famous  master  whose  works  I  have 
not  studied  thoroughly  and  repeatedly." 

Jahn  surmises,  doubtless  correctly,  that  the  rea- 


100  HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 

son  why  Mozart  habitually  delayed  putting  down 
his  pieces  on  paper,  was  because  this  process,  being 
a  mere  matter  of  copying,  did  not  interest  him  so 
much  as  the  composing  and  creating,  which  were  all 
done  before  he  took  up  the  pen.  "  You  know,"  he 
writes  to  his  father,  "  that  I  am  immersed  in  music, 
as  it  were,  that  I  am  occupied  with  it  all  day  long, 
that  I  like  to  study,  speculate,  reflect."  He  was 
often  absent-minded  and  even  followed  his  thoughts 
while  playing  billiards  or  nine  pins,  or  riding.  Like 
Beethoven,  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  ab- 
sorbed in  thought,  even  while  washing  his  hands ; 
and  his  hair-dresser  used  to  complain  that  Mozart 
would  never  sit  still,  but  would  jump  up  every  now 
and  then  and  walk  across  the  room  to  jot  down 
something,  or  touch  the  piano,  while  he  had  to  run 
after  him  holding  on  to  his  pigtail. 

Allusion  has  been  made  to  the  fact  that  it  was 
almost  always  in  the  open  air  that  new  ideas  sprouted 
in  Mozart's  mind,  especially  when  he  was  travelling. 
Whenever  a  new  theme  occurred  to  him  he  would 
jot  it  down  on  a  slip  of  paper,  and  he  always  had  a 
special  leather  bag  for  preserving  these  sketches, 
which  he  carefully  guarded.  These  sketches  differ 
somewhat  in  appearance,  but  generally  they  con- 
tained the  melody  or  vocal  part,  together  with  the 
bass,  and  brief  indications  of  the  middle  parts,  and 
here  and  there  mention  of  a  special  instrument 


HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK  101 

This  was  sufficient  subsequently  to  recall  the  whole 
composition  to  his  memory.  In  elaborating  his 
scores  he  hardly  ever  made  any  deviations  from  the 
original  conception,  not  even  in  the  instrumentation  ; 
which  seems  the  more  remarkable  when  we  reflect 
that  he  was  the  originator  of  many  new  orchestral 
combinations,  the  beauty  of  which  presented  itself 
to  his  imagination  before  his  ears  had  ever  heard 
them  in  actuality.  These  new  tone-colors,  as  Jahn 
remarks,  existed  intrinsically  in  the  orchestra  as  a 
statue  does  in  the  marble  ;  but  it  remained  for  the 
artist  to  bring  them  out ;  and  that  Mozart  was 
bound  to  have  them  is  shown  by  the  anecdote  of  a 
musician  who  complained  to  him  of  the  difficulty  of 
a  certain  passage,  and  begged  him  to  alter  it.  "Is 
it  possible  to  play  those  tones  on  your  instrument?  " 
Mozart  asked  ;  and  when  he  was  told  it  was,  he  re- 
plied, "Then  it  is  your  affair  to  bring  them  out." 

Beethoven's  way  of  mental  composing  appears  at 
first  sight  to  differ  widely  from  Mozart's.  But  if  we 
had  as  many  specimens  of  Mozart's  preliminary 
sketches  as  we  have  of  Beethoven's,  the  difference 
would  perhaps  appear  less  pronounced,  and  would 
to  a  large  extent  resolve  itself  into  the  fact  that 
Beethoven  did  not  trust  his  memory  so  much  as 
Mozart  did,  and  therefore  put  more  of  his  tentative, 
or  rough  sketches,  on  paper.  He  always  carried  in 
his  pockets  a  few  loose  sheets  of  music  paper,  or  a 


102  HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK 

number  of  sheets  bound  together  in  a  note-book.  I! 
his  supply  gave  out  accidentally,  he  would  seize 
upon  any  loose  sheet  of  paper,  or  even  a  bill  of  fare, 
to  note  down  his  thoughts.  In  a  corner  of  his  room 
lay  a  large  pile  of  note-books,  into  which  he  had 
copied  in  ink  his  first  rough  pencil-sketches.  Many 
of  these  sketch-books  have  been  fortunately  pre- 
served, and  they  are  among  the  most  remarkable 
relics  we  have  of  any  man  of  genius.  They  prove 
above  all  things  that  rapidity  of  work  is  not  a  test  of 
musical  inspiration,  and  that  Carlyle  was  not  entire- 
ly wrong  when  he  defined  genius  as  "an  immense 
capacity  for  taking  trouble."  In  the  "Fidelio" 
sketch-book,  for  example,  sixteen  pages  are  almost 
entirely  filled  with  sketches  for  a  scene  which  takes 
up  less  than  three  pages  of  the  vocal  score.  Of  the 
aria,  "  0  Hoflhung,"  there  are  as  many  as  eighteen 
different  versions,  and  of  the  final  chorus,  ten ;  and 
these  are  not  exceptional  cases  by  any  means.  As 
Thayer  remarks  :  "To  follow  a  recitative  or  aria 
through  all  its  guises  is  an  extremely  fatiguing  task, 
and  the  almost  countless  studies  for  a  duet  or  ter- 
zet  are  enough  to  make  one  frantic."  Thayer  quotes 
Jahn's  testimony  that  these  afterthoughts  are  invari- 
ably superior  to  the  first  conception,  and  adds  that 
"  some  of  his  first  ideas  for  pieces  which  are  now 
among  the  jewels  of  the  opera  are  so  extremely 
trivial  and  commonplace,  that  one  would  hardly 


HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK  103 

dare  to  attribute  them  to  Beethoven,  were  they  not 
in  his  own  handwriting." 

On  the  other  hand  these  sketch-books  bear  wit- 
ness to  the  extreme  fertility  of  Beethoven's  genius. 
Thayer  estimates  that  the  number  of  distinct  ideas 
noted  in  them,  which  remained  unused,  is  as  large 
as  the  number  which  he  used  ;  and  he  refers  to  this 
as  a  commentary  on  the  remark  which  Beethoven 
made  toward  the  close  of  his  life  :  "It seems  to  me 
as  if  I  were  only  just  beginning  to  compose."  And 
Nottebohm,  who  has  studied  these  sketch-books 
more  thoroughly  than  any  one  else,  thinks  that  if 
Beethoven  had  elaborated  all  the  symphonies  which 
he  began  in  these  books  we  should  have  at  least  fif- 
ty instead  of  nine. 

The  sketch-books  show  that  Beethoven  was  in  the 
habit  of  working  at  several  compositions  at  the  same 
time  ;  and  the  ideas  for  these  are  so  jumbled  up  in 
his  books  that  he  himself  apparently  needed  a  guide 
to  find  them.  At  least,  when  ideas  belonging  to- 
gether are  widely  separated  he  used  to  connect  them 
by  writing  the  letters  VI  over  the  first  passage  and 
DE  over  the  second.  He  also  used  to  write  the 
word  "  better  "  in  French  on  some  pages,  or  else  the 
figures  100,  500,  1,000,  etc.,  probably,  as  Schindler 
thinks,  to  indicate  the  relative  value  of  certain  ideas. 

When  his  mind  was  in  a  creative  mood,  Beethoven 
was  as  completely  absorbed  (or  "absent-minded,"  as 


104  HOW  COMPOSERS   WORK 

we  generally  say)  as  Mozart.  This  is  illustrated  by 
an  amusing  trait  described  by  his  biographers. 
"Beethoven  was  extremely  fond  of  washing.  He 
would  pour  water  backwards  and  forwards  over 
his  hands  for  a  long  time  together,  and  if  at  such 
times  a  musical  thought  struck  him  and  he  became 
absorbed,  he  would  go  on  until  the  whole  floor  was 
swimming,  and  the  water  had  found  its  way  through 
the  ceiling  into  the  room  beneath  "  (Grove).  Con- 
sequently, as  may  be  imagined,  he  not  infrequently 
had  trouble  with  his  landlord.  He  was  constantly 
changing  his  lodgings,  and  always  spent  the  summer 
in  the  country,  where  he  did  his  best  work.  "  In  the 
winter,"  he  once  remarked  to  Rellstab,  "  I  do  but 
little  ;  I  only  write  out  and  score  what  I  have  com- 
posed in  the  summer.  But  that  takes  a  long  time. 
When  I  get  into  the  country  I  am  fit  for  anything." 
On  account  of  his  deafness,  Beethoven  affords  a 
striking  instance  of  the  power  musicians  have  of 
imagining  novel  sound  effects  which  they  never  could 
have  heard  with  their  ears.  In  literature  we  blame 
a  writer  who,  as  the  expression  goes,  "evolves  his 
facts  from  his  inner  consciousness  ; "  but  in  music 
this  proceeding  is  evidence  of  the  highest  genius,  be- 
cause music  has  only  a  few  elementary  "  facts "  or 
prototypes,  in  nature.  Beethoven  was  deaf  at  thirty- 
two.  He  never  heard  his  "  Fidelio,"  and  for  twenty- 
five  years  he  could  hear  music  only  with  the  inner  ear. 


HOW  COMPOSERS   WORK  105 

But  musicians  are  in  one  respect  more  fortunate  than 
painters.  If  Titian  had  lost  his  eyesight,  he  could 
never  have  painted  another  picture ;  whereas  Beet- 
hoven after  losing  his  principal  sense  still  continued 
to  compose,  better  than  ever.  Mr.  Thayer  even 
thinks  that  from  a  purely  artistic  point  of  view  Beet- 
hoven's deafness  may  have  been  an  advantage  to  him  ; 
for  it  compelled  him  to  concentrate  all  his  thoughts 
on  the  symphonies  in  his  head,  undisturbed  by  the 
harsh  noises  of  the  external  world.  And  that  he  did 
not  forego  the  delights  of  music  is  obvious  from  the 
fact  that  the  pleasure  of  creating  is  more  intense  than 
the  pleasure  of  hearing  ;  and  is,  moreover  illustrated 
by  the  great  delight  he  felt  in  his  later  years  when 
he  read  the  compositions  of  Schubert  (for  he  could 
not  hear  them)  and  found  in  them  the  evidence  of 
genius,  which  he  did  not  hesitate  to  proclaim. 

In  considering  Beethoven's  deafness,  it  is  well  to 
bear  in  mind  the  words  of  Schopenhauer  :  "  Genius 
is  its  own  reward,"  he  says.  "If  we  look  up  to  a 
great  man  of  the  past  we  do  not  think,  How  fortun- 
ate he  is  to  be  still  admired  by  all  of  us ;  but,  How 
happy  he  must  have  been  in  the  immediate  enjoy- 
ment of  a  mind  the  traces  of  which  refresh  genera- 
tions of  men."  Schumann,  Weber,  and  others, 
repeatedly  testify  in  their  letters  to  the  great  delight 
they  felt  in  creating ;  and  at  the  time  when  he  was 
arranging  his  "  Freischtitz  "  for  the  piano,  Weber 


106  HOW  COMPOSERS   WORK 

wrote,  more  forcibly  than  elegantly,  that  he  was  en- 
joying himself  like  the  devil 

I  have  already  stated  that  Weber,  like  Beethoven, 
generally  got  his  new  ideas  during  his  walks  in  the 
country ;  and  riding  in  an  open  carriage  seems  to 
have  especially  stimulated  his  brain,  as  it  did  Mo- 
zart's. The  weird  and  original  music  to  the  dismal 
Wolf's-Glen  scene  in  the  "Freischtltz"  was  con- 
ceived one  morning  when  he  was  on  his  way  to 
Pillnitz,  and  the  wagon  was  occasionally  shrouded 
in  dense  clouds. 

A  curious  story  is  told  by  a  member  of  Weber's 
orchestra,  showing  how  a  musical  theme  may  be 
sometimes  suggested  by  incongruous  and  grotesque 
objects.  He  was  one  day  taking  a  walk  with  Weber 
in  the  suburbs  of  Dresden.  It  began  to  rain  and 
they  entered  a  beer  garden  which  had  just  been  de- 
serted by  the  guests  in  consequence  of  the  rain. 
The  waiters  had  piled  the  chairs  on  the  tables,  pell 
melL  At  sight  of  these  confused  groups  of  chairs 
and  tables  Weber  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  Look  here, 
Roth,  doesn't  that  look  like  a  great  triumphal 
march?  Thunder!  hear  those  trumpet  blasts!  I 
can  use  that — I  can  use  that !  "  In  the  evening  he 
wrote  down  what  his  imagination  had  heard,  and  it 
subsequently  became  the  great  march  in  "  Oberon." 

Some  psychological  interest  also  attaches  to  the 
remark  with  which  Weber's  son  prefaces  this  story 


HOW   COMPOSERS    WORK  107 

— namely  that  Weber  was  constantly  transmuting 
forms  and  colors  into  sounds ;  and  that  lines  and 
forms  seemed  to  stimulate  his  melodic  inventiveness 
pre-eminently,  whereas  sounds  affected  his  harmonic 
sense. 

My  subject  is  by  no  means  exhausted,  but  tot 
fear  of  fatiguing  the  reader  with  an  excess  of  details 
I  will  close  with  a  few  facts  regarding  Eichard  Wag- 
ner's method  of  composing.  I  am  indebted  for 
these  facts  to  the  kindness  of  Herr  Seidl,  of  the 
Metropolitan  Opera  House  in  New  York,  who  was 
Wagner's  secretary  for  several  years,  and  helped  him 
prepare  " Gotterdammerung "  and  "Parsifal"  for 
the  press. 

Like  his  famous  predecessors,  Wagner  always 
carried  some  sheets  of  music  paper  in  his  pocket,  on 
which  he  jotted  down  with  a  pencil  such  ideas  as 
came  to  him  on  solitary  walks,  or  at  other  times. 
These  he  gave  to  his  wife,  who  inked  them  over  and 
arranged  them  in  piles.  In  these  sketches  the  vocal 
part  was  always  written  out  in  full,  while  the  or- 
chestral part  was  roughly  indicated  in  two  or  more 
additional  staves.  Frau  Cosima  has  preserved  most 
of  these  sketches,  and  they  will  doubtless  some  day 
be  reproduced  in  fac-simile,  like  some  of  Beet- 
hoven's. 

Whenever  Wagner  was  in  the  mood  for  compos- 
ing he  would  say  to  Herr  Seidl,  "Bring  me  my 


108  HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK 

sketches."  Then  he  would  retire  to  his  composing 
room,  to  which  no  one  was  ever  admitted,  not  even 
his  wife  and  children.  At  lunch-time,  the  servant 
would  bring  something  to  the  ante-room,  without 
being  allowed  to  see  the  master  in  his  sanctum. 
How  Wagner  conducted  himself  there  is  not 
known,  except  that  strange  vocal  sounds,  and  a  few 
passionate  chords  on  the  piano  would  occasionally 
reach  the  ears  of  neighbors.  Wagner  appears  to 
have  used  his  piano  just  as  Beethoven  did  his,  even 
after  he  had  become  deaf : — as  a  sort  of  lightning- 
rod  for  his  fervent  emotions. 

Much  nonsense  has  been  written  concerning  the 
fact  that  Wagner  used  to  wear  gaudy  costumes  of 
silk  and  satin  while  he  was  composing,  and  that  he 
had  colored  glass  in  his  windows,  which  gave  every 
object  a  mysterious  aspect.  He  was  called  an  imi- 
tator of  the  eccentric  King  of  Bavaria,  and  some 
went  so  far  as  to  declare  him  insane.  But  in  truth, 
Wagner  was  simply  endeavoring  to  put  himself  into 
an  atmosphere  most  favorable  for  dramatic  creation. 
We  all  know  how  much  clothes  help  to  make  a  man, 
in  more  than  one  sense  ;  and  any  one  who  has  ever 
taken  part  in  private  theatricals  will  remember  how 
much  the  costume  helped  him  to  get  into  the  prop- 
er frame  of  mind  for  interpreting  his  role.  This 
was  all  that  Wagner  aimed  at  in  wearing  his  med- 
iaeval costumes ;  and  the  wonderful  realism  and  viv- 


HOW   COMPOSERS   WORK  109 

idness  of  his  dramatic  conceptions  certainly  more 
than  justify  the  unusual  methods  he  pursued  to  at- 
tain them. 

After  elaborating  the  melodic,  harmonic,  and 
rhythmic  details  of  his  scores,  Wagner  considered 
his  main  task  done,  and  the  orchestration  was  com- 
pleted down-stairs  in  his  music  room.  In  his  earli- 
est operas  Wagner  did  not  write  his  scenes  in  their 
regular  order,  but  took  those  first  which  specially 
proffered  themselves.  Of  the  "Flying  Dutchman," 
for  instance,  he  wrote  the  spinning  chorus  first,  and 
he  was  delighted  to  find  on  this  occasion,  as  he 
himself  says,  that  he  could  still  compose  after  a 
long  interruption.  He  used  a  piano  but  rather  to 
stimulate  and  correct  than  to  invent.  In  his  later 
works  the  piano  is  absolutely  out  of  the  question. 
He  wrote  the  music,  scene  after  scene,  following  the 
text ;  and  the  conception  of  the  whole  score  is  so 
absolutely  orchestral  that  the  piano  cannot  even 
give  as  faint  a  notion  of  it  as  a  photograph  can  give 
of  the  splendors  of  a  Titian.  Wagner,  as  he  him- 
self tells  us,  was  unable  to  play  his  scores  on  the 
piano,  but  always  tried  to  get  Liszt  to  do  that  for 
him. 

It  is  possible  that  some  of  my  readers  have  never 
seen  a  full  orchestral  score  of  "Siegfried"  or  "  Tris- 
tan." If  so,  I  advise  them  to  go  to  a  music  store 
and  look  at  one  as  a  matter  of  curiosity.     They  will 


110  HOW  COMPOSERS  WORK 

find  a  large  quarto  volume,  every  page  of  which  rep- 
resents only  one  line  of  music.  There  are  separate 
staves  for  the  violins,  violas,  cellos,  double  basses, 
flutes,  bassoons,  clarinets,  horns,  tubas,  trombones, 
kettle-drums,  etc.,  each  family  forming  a  quartette 
in  itself,  and  each  having  its  own  peculiar  emotional 
quality.  In  conducting  an  opera  the  Kapellmeister 
has  to  keep  his  eye  and  ear  at  the  same  time  on 
each  of  these  groups,  as  well  as  on  the  vocal  parts 
and  scenic  effects.  If  this  requires  a  talent  rarely 
found  among  musicians,  how  very  much  greater 
must  be  the  mind  which  created  this  complicated 
operatic  score !  No  one  who  tries  to  realize  what 
this  implies,  and  remembers  that  Wagner  wrote  sev- 
eral of  his  best  music  dramas  among  the  mountains 
of  Switzerland,  years  before  he  could  dream  of  ever 
hearing  the  countless  new  harmonies  and  orchestral 
tone-colors  which  he  had  discovered,  can  deny,  I 
think,  that  I  was  right  in  maintaining  that  the  com- 
posing of  an  opera  is  the  most  wonderful  achieve- 
ment of  human  genius. 


in 

SCHUMANN 


\ 


^ 


SCHUMANN 

AS  MIRRORED  IN  HIS  LETTERS 

Clara  Schumann,  the  most  gifted  woman  that  has 
ever  chosen  music  as  a  profession,  and  who,  at  the 
age  of  sixty-nine,  still  continues  to  be  among  the 
most  fascinating  of  pianists,  placed  the  musical  world 
under  additional  obligations  when  she  issued  three 
years  ago  the  collection  of  private  letters,  written 
by  Schumann  between  the  ages  of  eighteen  and 
thirty  (1827-40),  partly  to  her,  partly  to  his  mother, 
and  other  relatives,  friends,  and  business  associates. 
She  was  prompted  to  this  act  not  only  by  the  con- 
sciousness that  there  are  many  literary  gems  in  the 
correspondence  which  should  not  be  lost  to  the 
world,  but  by  the  thought  that  more  is  generally 
known  of  Schumann's  eccentricities  than  of  his  real 
traits  of  character.  Inasmuch  as  a  wretched  script 
was  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  of  these  eccen- 
tricities, it  is  fortunate  that  his  wife  lived  to  edit  his 
letters ;  but  even  she,  though  familiar  with  his  hand- 
writing during  many  years  of  courtship  and  marriage, 
was  not  infrequently  obliged  to  interpolate  a  conject- 


114  SCHUMANN 

ural  word.  Schumann  had  a  genuine  vein  of  humor, 
which  he  reveals  in  his  correspondence  as  in  his 
compositions  and  criticisms.  He  was  aware  that  his 
manuscript  was  not  a  model  of  caligraphy,  but,  on 
being  remonstrated  with,  he  passionately  declared 
he  could  not  do  any  better,  promising,  however,  sar- 
castically that,  as  a  predestined  diplomat,  he  would 
keep  an  amanuensis  in  future.  And  on  page  245  be- 
gins a  long  letter  to  Clara  which  presents  a  curious 
appearance.  Every  twentieth  word  or  so  is  placed 
between  two  vertical  lines,  regarding  which  the  read- 
er is  kept  in  the  dark  until  he  comes  to  this  post- 
script :  "In  great  haste,  owing  to  business  affairs,  I 
add  a  sort  of  lexicon  of  indistinctly  written  words, 
which  I  have  placed  within  brackets.  This  will 
probably  make  the  letter  appear  very  picturesque 
and  piquant.  The  idea  is  not  so  bad.  Adio, 
clarissima  Cara,  cara  Clarissima."  Then  follows  the 
"  lexicon "  of  twenty  words,  including  his  own  sig- 
nature. 

Although,  in  a  semi-humorous  vein,  Schumann  re- 
peatedly alludes  in  these  letters  to  the  "foregone 
conclusion"  that  they  will  some  day  be  printed, 
there  is  hardly  any  indication  that  such  a  thought 
was  ever  in  his  mind  while  writing  them.  They  are, 
in  fact,  full  of  confidences  and  confessions,  some  of 
which  he  could  not  have  been  very  ambitious  to  see 
in  print;  such  as  his  frequent  appeals  for  "more 


SCHUMANN  115 

ducats,"  during  his  student  days,  and  his  sophistic- 
ally  ingenious  excuses  for  needing  so  much  money, 
placed  side  by  side  with  his  frank  admission  that  he 
had  no  talent  for  economy,  and  was  very  fond  of 
cigars,  wine,  and  especially  travelling.  In  one  of 
the  most  amusing  of  tlie  letters,  he  advances  twelve 
reasons  why  his  mother  should  send  him  about  $200 
to  enable  him  to  see  Switzerland  and  Italy.  As  a 
last,  convincing  argument,  he  gently  hints  that  it  is 
very  easy  for  a  student  in  Heidelberg  to  borrow 
money  at  10  per  cent,  interest.  He  got  the  money 
and  enjoyed  his  Swiss  tour,  mostly  on  foot  and 
alone ;  but  in  Italy  various  misfortunes  overtook 
him — he  fell  ill,  his  money  ran  out,  and  he  was  only 
too  glad  to  return  to  Heidelberg  in  the  same  condi- 
tion as  when  he  had  first  arrived  there,  on  which 
occasion  the  state  of  his  purse  compelled  him  to 
make  the  last  part  of  the  journey  from  Leipsic  on 
foot. 

On  this  trip  he  enjoyed  that  unique  emotional 
thrill  of  the  German,  the  first  sight  of  the  Khine,  with 
which  he  was  so  enchanted  that  he  went  to  the  ex- 
treme forward  end  of  the  deck,  smoking  a  good  cigar 
given  him  by  an  Englishman :  "  Thus  I  sat  alone  all 
the  afternoon,  revelling  in  the  wild  storm  which 
ploughed  through  my  hair,  and  composing  a  poem 
of  praise  to  the  Northeast  wind" — for  Schumann 
often  indulged  in  poetic  efforts,  especially  when  in- 


116  SCHUMANN 

spired  to  flights  of  fancy  by  his  favorite  author,  Jean 
Paul. 

At  Heidelberg,  which  he  called  "  ein  ganzes  Para- 
dies  von  Natur,"  he  spent  one  of  the  happiest  years 
of  his  life.  Student  life  at  this  town  he  thus  com- 
pares with  Leipsic : 

"  In  and  near  Heidelberg  the  student  is  the  most 
prominent  and  respected  individual,  since  it  is  he 
who  supports  the  town,  so  that  the  citizens  and  Phil- 
istines are  naturally  excessively  courteous.  I  con- 
sider it  a  disadvantage  for  a  young  man,  especially 
for  a  student,  to  live  in  a  town  where  the  student 
only  and  solely  rules  and  flourishes.  Kepression 
alone  favors  the  free  development  of  a  youth,  and 
the  everlasting  loafing  with  students  greatly  limits 
many-sidedness  of  thought,  and  consequently  exerts 
a  bad  influence  on  practical  life.  This  is  one  great 
advantage  Leipsic  has  over  Heidelberg — which,  in 
fact,  a  large  city  always  has  over  a  small  one.  .  .  . 
On  the  other  hand,  Heidelberg  has  this  advantage, 
that  the  grandeur  and  beauty  of  the  natural  scenery 
prevent  the  students  from  spending  so  much  of 
their  time  in  drinking ;  for  which  reason  the  stu- 
dents here  are  ten  times  more  sober  than  in 
Leipsic." 

Schumann  himself,  as  we  have  said,  was  fond  of  a 
glass  of  good  wine.  On  his  first  journey,  at  Prague, 
he  tells  us,  the  Tokay  made  him  happy.     And  in 


SCHUMANN  117 

another  place  he  exclaims,  "Every  day  I  should 
like  to  drink  champagne  to  excite  myself."  But, 
though  of  a  solitary  disposition,  he  did  not  care  to 
drink  alone,  for  "  only  in  the  intimate  circle  of  sym- 
pathetic hearts  does  the  vine's  blood  become  trans- 
fused into  our  own  and  warm  it  to  enthusiasm." 
Schumann's  special  vice  was  the  constant  smoking 
of  very  strong  cigars ;  nor  does  he  appear  to  have 
devoted  to  gastronomic  matters  the  attention  neces- 
sary to  nourish  such  an  abnormally  active  brain  as 
his.  At  one  time  he  lived  on  potatoes  alone  for 
several  weeks ;  at  another  he  saved  on  his  meals  to 
get  money  for  French  lessons ;  and  although  he 
took  enough  interest  in  a  good  menu  to  copy  it  in  a 
letter,  he  repeatedly  laments  the  time  which  is  use- 
lessly wasted  in  eating.  Such  tenets,  combined 
with  his  smoking  habit,  doubtless  helped  to  shat- 
ter his  powers,  leading  finally  to  the  lunatic  asylum 
and  a  comparatively  early  death. 

His  frequent  fits  of  melancholy  may  also  perhaps 
be  traced  in  part  to  these  early  habits.  Though 
probably  unacquainted  with  Burton,  he  held  that 
"  there  is  in  melancholy  sentiments  something  ex- 
tremely attractive  and  even  invigorating  to  the  im- 
agination." Attempts  were  frequently  made  by 
his  friends  to  teach  him  more  sociable  habits.  Thus, 
at  Leipsic,  "  Dr.  Carus's  family  are  anxious  to  intro- 
duce me  to  innumerable  families — ■  it  would  be 


118  SCHUMANN 

good  for  my  prospects,'  they  think,  and  so  do  I, 
and  yet  I  don't  get  there,  and  in  fact  seldom  go 
out  at  all.  Indeed,  I  am  often  very  leathery,  dry, 
disagreeable,  and  laugh  much  inwardly."  That 
his  apparent  coldness  and  indifference  to  his  neigh* 
bors  and  friends  were  due  chiefly  to  his  absorption 
in  his  world  of  ideas,  and  his  consequent  want  of 
sympathy  with  the  artificial  usages  of  society,  be- 
comes apparent  from  this  confession,  written  to 
Clara  in  1838  : 

"I  should  like  to  confide  to  you  many  other 
things  regarding  my  character — how  people  often 
wonder  that  I  meet  the  warmest  expressions  of 
love  with  coldness  and  reserve,  and  often  offend  and 
humiliate  precisely  those  who  are  most  sincerely 
devoted  to  me.  Often  have  I  queried  and  re- 
proached myself  for  this,  for  inwardly  I  acknowl- 
edge even  the  most  trifling  favor,  understand 
every  wink,  every  subtle  trait  in  the  heart  of  an- 
other, and  yet  I  so  often  blunder  in  what  I  say 
and  do." 

In  these  melancholy  moods  nature  was  his  ref- 
uge and  consolation.  He  objected  to  Leipsic  be- 
cause there  were  no  delights  of  nature — "  every- 
thing artificially  transformed ;  no  valley,  no  moun- 
tain, where  I  might  revel  in  my  thoughts  ;  no  place 
where  I  can  be  alone,  except  in  the  bolted  room,  with 
the  eternal  noise  and  turmoil  below."    Although  he 


SCHUMANN  119 

had  but  a  few  intimate  friends,  he  was  liked  by  all 
the  students,  and  even  enjoyed  the  name  of  "  a  fav- 
orite of  the  Heidelberg  public."  One  of  his  intimate 
friends  was  Flechsig,  but  even  of  him  he  paradox- 
ically complains  that  he  is  too  sympathetic  :  "He 
never  cheers  me  up  ;  if  I  am  occasionally  in  a  mel- 
ancholy mood,  he  ought  not  to  be  the  same,  and  he 
ought  to  have  sufficient  humanity  to  stir  me  up. 
That  I  often  need  cheering  up,  I  know  very  welL" 
Yet  he  was  as  often  in  a  state  of  extreme  happiness 
and  enjoyment  of  life  and  his  talents.  He  even,  on 
occasion,  indulged  in  students'  pranks.  On  his 
journey  to  Heidelberg  he  induced  the  postilion  to 
let  him  take  the  reins  :  "  Thunder !  how  the  horses 
ran,  and  how  extravagantly  happy  I  was,  and  how 
we  stopped  at  every  tavern  to  get  fodder,  and  how  I 
entertained  the  whole  company,  and  how  sorry  they 
all  were  when  I  parted  from  them  at  Wiesbaden ! ! " 
At  Frankfort,  one  morning,  he  writes :  "I  felt  an 
extraordinary  longing  to  play  on  a  piano.  So  I 
calmly  went  to  the  nearest  dealer,  told  him  I  was 
the  tutor  of  a  young  English  lord  who  wished  to 
buy  a  grand  piano,  and  then  I  played,  to  the  won- 
der and  delight  of  the  bystanders,  for  three  hours. 
I  promised  to  return  in  two  days  and  inform  them 
if  the  lord  wanted  the  instrument ;  but  on  that  date 
I  was  at  Ktidesheim,  drinking  Budesheimer."  In 
another  place  he  gives  an  account  of  "a  scene 


120  SCHUMANN 

worthy  of  Van  Dyck,  and  a  most  genial  evening  * 
he  spent  with  some  students  at  a  tavern  filled  with 
peasants.  They  had  some  grog,  and  at  the  request 
of  the  peasants  one  of  the  students  declaimed,  and 
Schumann  played.  Then  a  dance  was  arranged. 
"  The  peasants  beat  time  with  their  feet.  We  were 
in  high  spirits,  and  danced  dizzily  among  the  peas- 
ant feet,  and  finally  took  a  touching  farewell  of  the 
company  by  giving  all  the  peasant  girls,  Minchen, 
etc.,  smacking  kisses  on  the  lips." 

Were  women,  like  men,  afflicted  with  retrospec- 
tive jealousy,  Schumann's  widow,  in  editing  these 
letters,  would  have  received  a  pang  from  many  other 
passages  revealing  Schumann's  fondness  for  the 
fair  sex.  He  allowed  no  good-looking  woman  to 
pass  him  on  the  street  without  taking  the  opportun- 
ity to  cultivate  his  sense  of  beauty.  After  his  en- 
gagement to  Clara  he  gives  her  fair  warning  that  he 
has  the  "  very  mischievous  habit "  of  being  a  great 
admirer  of  beautiful  women  and  girls.  "They 
make  me  positively  smirk,  and  I  swim  in  panegyrics 
on  your  sex.  Consequently,  if  at  some  future 
time  we  walk  along  the  streets  of  Vienna  and  meet 
a  beauty,  and  I  exclaim, '  Oh,  Clara !  see  this  heaven- 
ly vision,'  or  something  of  the  sort,  you  must  not 
be  alarmed  nor  scold  me."  He  had  a  number  of 
transient  passions  before  he  discovered  that  Clara 
was  his  only  true  love.     There    was    Nanni,   his 


SCHUMANN  121 

"guardian  angel,"  who  saved  him  from  the  perils  of 
the  world  and  hovered  before  his  vision  like  a 
saint  "  I  feel  like  kneeling  before  her  and  ador- 
ing her  like  a  Madonna."  But  Nanni  had  a  danger- 
ous rival  in  Liddy.  Not  long,  however,  for  he 
found  Liddy  silly,  cold  as  marble,  and — fatal  defect 
— she  could  not  sympathize  with  him  regarding 
Jean  Paul.  "  The  exalted  image  of  my  ideal  disap- 
pears when  I  think  of  the  remarks  she  made  about 
Jean  Paul.    Let  the  dead  rest  in  peace." 

Several  of  his  flames  are  not  alluded  to  in  this 
correspondence.  On  his  travels  he  appears  to  have 
had  the  habit  of  noting  down  in  his  diary  the  prev- 
alence and  peculiarities  of  feminine  beauty.  He 
complains  that  from  Mainz  to  Heidelberg  he  "  did 
not  see  a  single  pretty  face."  Yet,  as  a  whole,  the 
Rhine  maidens  seem  to  have  won  his  admiration  : 

"What  characteristic  faces  among  the  lowest 
classes  !  On  the  west  shore  of  the  Rhine  the  girls 
have  very  delicate  features,  indicating  amiability 
rather  than  intelligence  ;  the  noses  are  mostly  Greek, 
the  face  very  oval  and  artistically  symmetrical,  the 
hair  brown  ;  I  did  not  see  a  single  blonde.  The 
complexion  is  soft,  delicate,  with  more  white  than 
red  ;  melancholy  rather  than  sanguine.  The  Frank- 
fort girls,  on  the  other  hand,  have  in  common  a  sis- 
terly trait — the  character  of  German,  manly,  sad 
earnestness  which  we  often  find  in  our  quondam 


122  SCHUMANN 

free  cities,  and  which  toward  the  east  gradually 
merges  into  a  gentle  softness.  Characteristic  are 
the  faces  of  all  the  Frankfort  girls  :  intellectual  or 
beautiful  few  of  them ;  the  noses  mostly  Greek, 
often  snub-noses  ;  the  dialect  I  did  not  like." 

The  English  type  of  beauty  appears  to  have  es- 
pecially won  his  approval.  "When  she  spoke  it 
sounded  like  the  whispering  of  angels,"  he  says  of 
an  Englishwoman,  "  as  pretty  as  a  picture,"  whom 
he  met.  Elsewhere  he  says,  laconically  :  "  On  the 
24th  I  arrived  at  Mainz  with  the  steamer,  in  com- 
pany with  twenty  to  thirty  English  men  and  women. 
Next  day  the  number  of  English  increased  to  fifty. 
If  I  ever  marry,  it  must  be  an  English  woman." 
Some  years  later,  however,  with  the  fickleness  of 
genius,  he  writes  about  Ernestine,  the  daughter  of 
a  rich  Bohemian  Baron,  "  a  delightfully  innocent, 
childish  soul,  tender  and  pensive,  attached  to  me 
and  to  everything  artistic  by  the  most  sincere  love, 
extremely  musical — in  short,  just  the  kind  of  a  girl 
I  could  wish  to  marry."  He  did  become  engaged 
to  her,  but  the  following  year  the  engagement  was 
dissolved ;  and  soon  after  this  he  discovered  that 
his  artistic  admiration  for  Clara  Wieck  had  assumed 
the  form  of  love.  Although  her  father  opposed  their 
union  several  years,  on  account  of  Schumann's  pov- 
erty, the  young  couple  often  met,  and  not  only  in 
the  music-room.     In  1833  he  writes  to  his  mother 


SCHUMANN  123 

regarding  Clara :  "  The  other  day,  when  we  went  to 
Connewitz  (we  take  a  two  or  three  hours'  walk  almost 
daily),  I  heard  her  say  to  herself,  '  How  happy  I  am  ! 
how  happy ! '  Who  would  not  like  to  hear  that ! 
On  this  road  there  are  a  number  of  very  useless 
stones  in  the  midst  of  the  footpath.  Now,  as  it  hap- 
pens in  conversation  that  I  more  frequently  look  up 
than  down,  she  always  walks  behind  me  and  gent- 
ly pulls  my  coat  at  every  stone,  lest  I  may  fall" 

It  was  most  fortunate  for  Schumann  that  his 
bride  and  wife  was  one  of  the  greatest  living  pian- 
ists. For,  owing  to  the  accident  to  his  hand,  though 
he  could  still  improvise,  he  could  not  appear  in 
public  to  interpret  his  own  compositions,  which  de- 
pended so  much  for  their  success  on  a  sympathetic 
performance,  since  they  differed  so  greatly  from  the 
prevalent  style  of  Hummel  and  the  classical  mas- 
ters, that  even  so  gifted  a  musician  as  Mendelssohn 
failed  to  understand  them.  But  Clara  made  it  the 
task  of  her  life  to  secure  him  recognition,  and  this 
was  an  additional  bond  that  united  their  souls. 
"  When  you  are  mine,"  he  writes,  "you  will  occa- 
sionally hear  something  new  from  me  ;  I  believe 
you  will  often  inspire  me,  and  the  mere  fact  that  I 
shall  then  frequently  hear  my  own  compositions  will 
cheer  me  up;"  and:  "Your  Eomance  showed  me 
once  more  that  we  must  become  man  and  wife.  Ev- 
ery one  of  your  thoughts  comes  from  my  soul,  even 


124  SCHUMANN 

as  I  owe  all  my  music  to  you."  To  Dorn  he  writes 
that  many  of  his  compositions,  including  the  No- 
veletten,  the  Kreisleriana,  and  the  Kinderscenen, 
were  inspired  by  Clara  ;  and  it  is  well  known  that 
his  love  became  the  incentive  to  the  composition,  in 
one  year,  of  over  a  hundred  wonderful  songs — his 
previous  compositions,  up  to  1840,  having  all  been 
for  the  piano  alone.  In  the  last  letter  of  this  col- 
lection he  says:  "Sometimes  it  appears  to  me  as 
if  I  were  treading  entirely  new  paths  in  music;" 
and  there  are  many  other  passages  showing  that 
he  realized  well  that  the  very  things  which  his  con- 
temporaries criticised  and  decried  as  eccentric  and 
obscure  (Hummel,  e.g.,  objects  to  his  frequent 
changes  of  harmony  and  his  originality !),  were 
really  his  most  inspired  efforts.  Though  he  never 
allowed  the  desire  for  popularity  to  influence  his 
work,  yet  he  occasionally  craves  appreciation.  "I 
am  willing  to  confess  that  I  should  be  greatly 
pleased  if  I  could  succeed  in  composing  something 
which  would  impel  the  public,  after  hearing  you 
play  it,  to  run  against  the  walls  in  their  delight ;  for 
vain  we  composers  are,  even  though  we  have  no  rea- 
son to  be  so."  It  must  have  given  him  a  strange 
shock  when  an  amateur  asked  him,  at  one  of  his 
wife's  concerts  in  "Vienna,  if  he  also  was  musical ! 

In  her  efforts  to  win  appreciation  for  her  husband, 
Clara  was  nobly  assisted  by  Liszt.     Just  like  Wag- 


SCHUMANN  125 

ner,  Schumann  was  not  at  first  very  favorably  im- 
pressed with  Liszt,  owing  to  the  sensational  flavor  of 
his  early  performances.  But  he  soon  changed  his 
mind,  especially  when  Liszt  played  some  of  his 
(Schumann's)  compositions.  "Many  things  were 
different  from  my  conception  of  them,  but  always 
1  genial,'  and  marked  by  a  tenderness  and  boldness  of 
expression  which  even  he  presumably  has  not  at  his 
command  every  day.  Becker  was  the  only  other  per- 
son present,  and  he  had  tears  in  his  eyes."  And  two 
days  later  :  "  But  I  must  tell  you  that  Liszt  appears 
to  me  grander  every  day.  This  morning  he  again 
played  at  Raimund  Hartel's,  in  a  way  to  make  us  all 
tremble  and  rejoice,  some  etudes  of  Chopin,  a  num- 
ber of  the  Rossini  soirees,  and  other  things."  Of  other 
contemporary  pianists  Hummel,  "  ten  years  behind 
the  time,"  and  Thalberg,  whom  he  liked  better  as  pi- 
anist than  as  composer,  are  alluded  to.  Yet  he  writes 
in  1830  that  he  intends  going  to  Weimar,  "  for  the  sly 
reason  of  being  able  to  call  myself  a  pupil  of  Hum- 
mel." Wieck,  his  father-in-law,  he  esteemed  greatly 
as  teacher  and  adviser,  but  it  offended  him  deeply 
that  Wieck  should  have  followed  the  common  error  of 
estimating  genius  with  a  yard-stick,  and  asked  where 
were  his  "  Don  Juan  "  and  his  "  Freischtitz  ?  "  His 
enthusiasm  for  Schubert,  Chopin,  and  especially  for 
Bach,  finds  frequent  expression.  Bach's  "  Well-Tem- 
pered Clavichord  "  he  declares  is  his  "grammar,  and 


126  SCHUMANN 

the  best  of  all  grammars.  The  fugues  I  have  anal- 
yzed successively  to  the  minutest  details  ;  the  advan- 
tage resulting  from  this  is  great,  and  has  a  morally 
bracing  effect  on  the  whole  system,  for  Bach  was  a 
man  through  and  through  ;  in  him  there  is  nothing 
done  by  halves,  nothing  morbid,  but  all  is  written 
for  time  eternal."  Six  years  later  :  "  Bach  is  my 
daily  bread  ;  from  him  I  derive  gratification  and  get 
new  ideas — ■  compared  with  him  we  are  all  children,' 
Beethoven  has  said,  I  believe."  One  day  a  caller  re- 
marked that  Bach  was  old  and  wrote  in  old-fashioned 
manner :  "  But  I  told  him  he  was  neither  old  nor 
new,  but  much  more  than  that,  namely,  eternal.  I 
came  near  losing  my  temper."  Concerning  the  un- 
appreciative  Mendelssohn,  he  writes  to  Clara  : 

"  I  am  told  that  he  is  not  well  disposed  toward 
me.  I  should  feel  sorry  if  that  were  true,  since  I  am 
conscious  of  having  preserved  noble  sentiments  to- 
ward him.  If  you  know  anything  let  me  hear  it  on 
occasion  ;  that  will  at  least  make  me  cautious,  and  I 
do  not  wish  to  squander  anything  where  I  am  ill- 
spoken  of.  Concerning  my  relations  toward  him  as 
a  musician  [1838],  I  am  quite  aware  that  I  could 
learn  of  him  for  years ;  but  he,  too,  some  things  of  me. 
Brought  up  under  similar  circumstances,  destined 
for  music  from  childhood,  I  would  surpass  you  all — 
that  I  feel  from  the  energy  of  my  inventive  powers." 

Concerning  this  energy  he  says,  some  time  after 


SCHUMANN  127 

this,  when  he  had  just  finished  a  dozen  songs: 
"  Again  I  have  composed  so  much  that  I  am  some- 
times visited  by  a  mysterious  feeling.  Alas !  I  can- 
not help  it.  I  could  wish  to  sing  myself  to  death, 
like  a  nightingale." 

One  of  the  most  interesting  bits  of  information 
contained  in  this  correspondence  is  that,  when  quite 
a  young  man,  Schumann  commenced  a  treatise  on 
musical  aesthetics.  In  view  of  the  many  epoch- 
making  thoughts  contained  in  his  two  volumes  of 
collected  criticisms,  it  is  very  much  to  be  regretted 
that  this  plan  was  not  carried  out.  On  one  question 
of  musical  psychology  light  is  thrown  by  several  of 
these  letters.  Like  many  other  composers,  it  seems 
that  Schumann  often,  if  not  generally,  had  some 
pictorial  image  or  event  in  his  mind  in  composing. 
"  When  I  composed  my  first  songs,"  he  writes  to 
Clara,  "  I  was  entirely  within  you.  Without  such  a 
bride  one  cannot  write  such  music."  "  I  am  affected 
by  everything  that  goes  on  in  the  world — politics, 
literature,  mankind.  In  my  own  manner  I  meditate 
on  everything,  which  then  seeks  utterance  in  music. 
That  is  why  many  of  my  compositions  are  so  diffi- 
cult to  understand,  because  they  relate  to  remote 
affairs ;  and  often  significant,  because  all  that's  re- 
markable in  our  time  affects  me,  and  I  have  to  give 
it  expression  in  musical  language."  One  of  the  let- 
ters to  Clara  begins :  "  Tell  me  what  the  first  part  of 


128  SCHUMANN 

the  Fantasia  suggests  to  you.  Does  it  not  bring 
many  pictures  before  your  mind  ?  "  Concerning  the 
"  Phantasiestticke  "  he  writes :  "  When  they  were 
finished  I  was  delighted  to  find  the  story  of  Hero  and 
Leander  in  them.  .  .  .  Tell  me  if  you,  too,  find 
this  picture  fitting  the  music."  "The  Papillons,"  he 
says  once  more,  are  intended  to  be  a  musical  transla- 
tion of  the  final  scene  in  Jean  Paul's  "  Flegeljahre." 
Believers  in  telepathy  will  be  interested  in  the 
following  additional  instance  of  composing  with  a 
visual  object  in  mind :  "  I  wrote  to  you  concern- 
ing a  presentiment ;  it  occurred  to  me  on  the  days 
from  March  24th  to  27th,  when  I  was  at  work  on  my 
new  composition.  There  is  a  place  in  it  to  which 
I  constantly  recurred  ;  it  is  as  if  some  one  sighed, 
'Ach,  G-ott ! '  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  While 
composing,  I  constantly  saw  funeral  processions, 
coffins,  unhappy  people  in  despair  ;  and  when  I  had 
finished,  and  long  searched  for  a  title,  the  word 
1  corpse-fantasia '  continually  obtruded  itself.  Is  not 
that  remarkable  ?  During  the  composition,  more- 
over, I  was  often  so  deeply  affected  that  tears  came 
to  my  eyes,  and  yet  I  knew  not  why  and  had  no  rea- 
son— till  Theresa's  letter  arrived,  which  made  every- 
thing clear.  "    His  brother  was  on  his  death-bed. 

The  collection  of  Schumann's  letters  so  far  under 
consideration  met  with  such  a  favorable  reception 


SCHUMANN  129 

that  a  second  edition  was  soon  called  for,  and  this 
circumstance  no  doubt  promoted  the  publication  of 
a  second  series,  extending  to  1854,  two  years  before 
Schumann's  sad  death  in  the  lunatic  asylum  near 
Bonn.  This  second  volume  includes  a  considerable 
number  of  business  letters  to  his  several  publishers. 
In  one  of  these  he  confides  to  Dr.  Hartel  his  plan 
of  collecting  and  revising  his  musical  criticisms,  and 
publishing  them  in  two  volumes.  But  as  this  letter 
was,  a  few  months  later,  followed  by  a  similar  one 
addressed  to  the  publisher  Wigand,  who  subse- 
quently printed  the  essays,  it  is  to  be  inferred  that 
Breitkopf  &  Hartel,  though  assured  of  the  future 
of  Schumann's  compositions,  doubted  the  financial 
value  of  his  musical  essays — an  attitude  pardonable 
at  a  time  when  there  was  still  a  ludicrous  popular 
prejudice  against  literary  utterances  by  a  musician. 
In  1883,  however,  after  Wigand  had  issued  a  third 
edition  of  the  "Collected  Writings  on  Music  and 
Musicians"  (which  have  also  been  translated  into 
English  by  Mrs.  Bitter),  Breitkopf  &  Hartel  atoned 
for  their  error  by  purchasing  the  copyright. 

Schumann's  letters  to  his  publishers  show  that  he 
used  to  suggest  his  own  terms,  which  were  commonly 
acceded  to  without  protest.  For  his  famous  quintet 
he  asked  twenty  louis  d'or,  or  about  $100  ;  for 
"  Paradise  and  the  Peri,  "  $500  ;  the  piano  concerto, 
$125  ;    Liederalbum,   op.    79,    $200  ;   "  Manfred, " 


130  SCHUMANN 

$250.  He  frequently  emphasizes  his  desire  to  have 
his  compositions  printed  in  an  attractive  style,  and 
in  1839  writes  to  Hartel  that  he  cannot  describe  his 
pleasure  on  receiving  the  "  Scenes  of  Childhood." 
"It  is  the  most  charming  specimen  of  musical  ty- 
pography I  have  ever  seen."  The  few  misprints  he 
discovers  in  it  he  frankly  attributes  to  his  MS.  In  a 
letter  to  his  friend  Rosen  he  writes  that  "  it  must  be 
a  deucedly  comic  pleasure  to  read  my  Sanskrit." 
But  his  musical  handwriting  appears  to  have  been 
nearer  to  Sauskrit  than  his  epistolary,  if  we  may 
judge  by  the  specimen  fac-similes  printed  in  Nau- 
mann's  "  History  of  Music." 

The  promptness  with  which  all  the  leading  music 
publishers  of  Germany  issued  complete  editions 
of  Schumann's  vocal  and  pianoforte  compositions, 
as  soon  as  the  copyright  had  expired,  shows  how 
profitable  they  must  be.  But  during  his  lifetime 
it  was  quite  otherwise,  and  in  a  letter  to  Koss- 
maly  he  adduces  the  following  four  reasons  for  this 
state  of  affairs  :  "  (1)  inherent  difficulties  of  form 
and  contents ;  (2)  because,  not  being  a  virtuoso, 
I  cannot  perform  them  in  public  ;  (3)  because  I  am 
the  editor  of  my  musical  paper,  in  which  I  could  not 
allude  to  them ;  (4)  because  Fink  is  editor  of  the 
other  paper,  and  would  not  allude  to  them."  Else- 
where he  remarks,  concerning  this  rival  editor :  "  It  is 
really  most  contemptible  on  Fink's  part  not  to  have 


SCHUMANN  131 

mentioned  a  single  one  of  my  pianoforte  composi- 
tions in  nine  [seven]  years,  although  they  are  always 
of  such  a  character  that  it  is  impossible  to  overlook 
them.  It  is  not  for  my  name's  sake  that  I  am  an- 
noyed, but  because  I  know  what  the  future  course  of 
music  is  to  be."  It  was  in  behalf  of  this  tendency 
that  he  toiled  on  his  paper,  which  at  first  barely  paid 
its  expenses,  having  only  500  subscribers  several 
years  after  its  foundation.  And  he  not  only  avoid- 
ed puffing  his  own  compositions,  but  even  inserted  a 
contribution  by  his  friend  Kossmaly  in  which  he  was 
placed  in  the  second  rank  of  vocal  composers  !  Yet, 
though  he  printed  the  article,  he  complains  about  it 
in  a  private  letter  :  "  In  your  article  on  the  Lied,  I 
was  a  little  grieved  that  you  placed  me  in  the  second 
class.  I  do  not  lay  claim  to  the  first,  but  I  think  I 
have  a  claim  to  a  place  of  my  own,  and  least  of  all  do 
I  wish  to  see  myself  associated  with  Keissiger, 
Curschmann,  etc.  I  know  that  my  aims,  my  re- 
sources, are  far  beyond  theirs,  and  I  hope  you  will 
concede  this  and  not  accuse  me  of  vanity,  which  is 
far  from  me." 

Many  of  the  letters  in  the  present  collection  are 
concerned  with  the  affairs  of  Schumann's  paper,  the 
Neue  Zeitschrift  filr  Musik,  detailing  his  plans  for  re- 
moving it  to  a  larger  city  than  Leipsic,  and  the  atro- 
cious red-tape  difficulties  and  delays  he  was  sub- 
jected to  when  he  finally  did  transfer  it  to  Vienna. 


132  SCHUMANN 

Although  the  paper  was  exclusively  devoted  to  music, 
the  Gensur  apparently  took  three  or  four  months  to 
make  up  its  mind  whether  the  state  was  in  danger 
or  not  from  the  immigration  of  a  new  musical  peri- 
odical. The  editor  confesses  that  he  did  not  find 
as  much  sympathy  as  he  had  expected  in  Vienna  ; 
yet  the  city — as  he  writes  some  years  later  at  Dfis- 
seldorf — "  continues  to  attract  one,  as  if  the  spirits 
of  the  departed  great  masters  were  still  visible,  and 
as  if  it  were  the  real  musical  home  of  Germany.,, 
"  Eating  and  drinking  here  are  incomparable.  You 
would  be  delighted  with  the  Opera.  Such  singers 
and  such  an  ensemble  we  do  not  have."  "  The  ad- 
mirable Opera  is  a  great  treat  for  me,  especially  the 
chorus  and  orchestra.  Of  such  things  we  have  no 
conception  in  Leipsic.  The  ballet  would  also  amuse 
you."  "  A  more  encouraging  public  it  would  be  dif- 
ficult to  find  anywhere  ;  it  is  really  too  encouraging 
— in  the  theatre  one  hears  more  applause  than  music. 
It  is  very  merry,  but  it  annoys  me  occasionally." 
"  But  I  assure  you  confidentially  that  long  and  alone 
I  should  not  care  to  live  here  ;  serious  men  and  af- 
fairs are  here  in  little  demand  and  little  appreciated. 
A  compensation  for  this  is  found  in  the  beautiful 
surroundings.  Yesterday  I  was  in  the  cemetery 
where  Beethoven  and  Schubert  are  buried.  Just 
think  what  I  found  on  Beethoven's  grave  :  a  pen, 
and,  what  is  more,  a  steel  pen.     It  was  a  happy  omen 


SCHUMANN  133 

for  me  and  I  shall  preserve  it  religiously."  On 
Schubert's  grave  he  found  nothing,  but  in  the  city 
he  found  Schubert's  brother,  a  poor  man  with  eight 
children  and  no  possessions  but  a  number  of  his 
brother's  manuscripts,  including  "  a  few  operas,  four 
great  masses,  four  or  five  symphonies,  and  many 
other  things."  He  immediately  wrote  to  Breitkopf 
&  Hartel  to  make  arrangements  for  their  publica- 
tion. 

It  is  anything  but  complimentary  to  the  discern- 
ment of  Viennese  publishers  and  musicians  of  that 
period  that,  eleven  years  after  Schubert's  death,  an- 
other composer  had  to  come  from  Leipsic  and  give 
to  the  world  the  works  of  a  colleague  who  not  only 
had  genius  of  the  purest  water,  but  the  gift  of  giving 
utterance  to  his  musical  ideas  in  a  clear  style,  intelli- 
gible to  the  public.  Schubert  died  in  1828,  and  in 
1842  Schumann  could  still  write  to  one  of  his  con- 
tributors :  "  It  is  time,  it  seems  to  me,  that  some 
one  should  write  something  weighty  in  behalf  of 
Schubert  ;  doesn't  this  tempt  you  ?  True,  his  larger 
works  are  not  yet  in  print.  But  his  vocal  and  piano- 
forte compositions  suffice  for  an  approximate  por- 
trait. Consider  the  matter.  Do  you  know  his  sym- 
phony in  C  ?  A  delightful  composition,  somewhat 
long,  but  extraordinarily  animated,  in  character  en- 
tirely new."  To  a  Belgian  friend  who  intended  to 
write  an  article  on  the  new  tendencies  in  pianoforte 


134  SCHUMANN 

music,  he  wrote  :  "  Of  older  composers  who  have  in- 
fluenced modern  music  I  must  name  above  all  Franz 
Schubert.  .  .  .  Schubert's  songs  are  well  known, 
but  his  pianoforte  compositions  (especially  those  for 
four  hands)  I  rate  at  least  equally  high." 

Of  the  numerous  criticisms  of  well-known  compos- 
ers contained  in  this  correspondence,  a  few  more 
may  be  cited.  They  are  mostly  favorable  in  tone, 
but  concerning  the  "  Prophete  "  he  writes  :  "  The 
music  appears  to  me  very  poor  ;  I  cannot  find  words 
to  express  my  aversion  to  it."  "  Lortzing's  operas 
meet  with  success — to  me  almost  incomprehensible." 
To  Carl  Eeinecke  he  writes  that  he  is  "  no  friend  of 
song-transcriptions  (for  piano),  and  of  Liszt's  some 
are  a  real  abomination  to  me."  He  commends  Eei- 
necke's  efforts  in  this  direction  because  they  are  free 
from  pepper  and  sauce  d  la  Liszt.  Nevertheless, 
those  of  Liszt's  song-transcriptions  in  which  he  did 
not  indulge  in  too  much  bravura  ornamentation  are 
models  of  musical  translation,  and  the  collection  of 
forty-two  songs  published  by  Breitkopf  &  Hartel 
should  be  in  every  pianist's  library.  "  Of  Chopin,"  he 
writes  in  1836,  "  I  have  a  new  ballad  [G  minor].  It 
seems  to  me  to  be  his  most  enchanting  (though  not 
most  genial)  work ;  I  told  him,  too,  that  I  liked  it 
best  of  all  his  compositions.  After  a  long  pause  and 
reflection  he  said :  '  I  am  glad  you  think  so,  it  is  also 
my  favorite.'    He  also  played  for  me  a  number  of  new 


SCHUMANN  135 

etudes,  nocturnes,  mazurkas — everything  in  an  in- 
comparable style.  It  is  touching  to  see  him  at  the 
piano.  You  would  be  very  fond  of  him.  Yet  Clara 
is  more  of  a  virtuoso,  and  gives  almost  more  signi- 
ficance to  his  compositions  than  he  does  himself." 

Brendel  having  sent  him  some  of  Palestrina's 
music,  he  writes  that  "it  really  sounds  sometimes 
like  music  of  the  spheres — and  what  art  at  the  same 
time  !  I  am  convinced  he  is  the  greatest  musical 
genius  Italy  has  produced."  Nineteen  years  previous 
to  this  he  had  written  from  Brescia  :  "  Were  not  the 
Italian  language  itself  a  kind  of  eternal  music  (the 
Count  aptly  called  it  a  long-drawn-out  A-minor 
chord),  I  should  not  hear  anything  rational.  Of  the 
ardor  with  which  they  play,  you  can  form  no  more 
conception  than  of  their  slovenliness  and  lack  of  ele- 
gance and  precision."  Handel  appears  to  be  men- 
tioned only  once  in  all  of  Schumann's  correspondence 
("I  consider  'Israel  in  Egypt '  the  ideal  of  a  choral 
work"),  but  Bach  is  always  on  his  tongue.  The 
following  is  one  of  the  profoundest  criticisms  ever 
written  :  "  Mozart  and  Haydn  knew  of  Bach  only  a 
few  pages  and  passages,  and  the  effect  which  Bach, 
if  they  had  known  him  in  all  his  greatness,  would 
have  had  on  them,  is  incalculable.  The  harmonic 
depth,  the  poetic  and  humorous  qualities  of  modern 
music  have  their  source  chiefly  in  Bach :  Mendels- 
sohn, Bennett,  Chopin,  Hiller,  all  the  so-called  Ro' 


136  SCHUMANN 

manticists  (I  mean  those  of  the  German  school)  ap> 
proximate  in  their  music  much  closer  to  Bach  than  to 
Mozart." 

To  Wagner  there  are  several  references,  betraying 
a  most  remarkable  struggle  between  critical  honesty 
and  professional  jealousy.  Thus,  in  1845,  Schumann 
writes  to  Mendelssohn  of  "  Tannhauser  : " 

"  Wagner  has  just  finished  a  new  opera — no  doubt 
a  clever  fellow,  full  of  eccentric  notions,  and  bold  be- 
yond measure.  The  aristocracy  is  still  in  raptures 
over  him  on  account  of  his  •  Kienzi,'  but  in  reality 
he  cannot  conceive  or  write  four  consecutive  bars  of 
good  or  even  correct  music.  What  all  these  com- 
posers lack  is  the  art  of  writing  pure  harmonies  and 
four-part  choruses.  The  music  is  not  a  straw  better 
than  that  of  ■  Rienzi, '  rather  weaker,  more  artificial ! 
But  if  I  should  write  this  I  should  be  accused  of 
envy,  hence  I  say  it  only  to  you,  as  I  am  aware  that 
you  have  known  all  this  a  long  time." 

But  in  another  letter  to  Mendelssohn,  written  three 
weeks  later,  he  recants  :  "  I  must  take  back  much  of 
what  I  wrote  regarding  '  Tannhauser/  after  reading 
the  score  ;  on  the  stage  the  effect  is  quite  different. 
I  was  deeply  moved  by  many  parts."  And  to 
Heinrich  Dorn  he  writes,  a  few  weeks  after  this  :  "  I 
wish  you  could  see  Wagner's  ■  Tannhauser.'  It 
contains  profound  and  original  ideas,  and  is  a  hun- 
dred times  better  than  his  previous  operas,  though 


*+ 


SCHUMANN  137 

some  of  the  music  is  trivial.  In  a  word,  he  may  be- 
come of  great  importance  to  the  stage,  and,  so  far  as 
I  know  him,  he  has  the  requisite  courage.  The 
technical  part,  the  instrumentation,  I  find  excellent, 
incomparably  more  masterly  than  formerly." 

Nevertheless,  seven  years  later  still,  he  once  more 
returns  to  the  attack,  and  declares  that  Wagner's 
music,  "  apart  from  the  performance,  is  simply  am- 
ateurish, void  of  contents,  and  disagreeable ;  and  it 
is  a  sad  proof  of  corrupt  taste  that,  in  the  face  of  the 
many  dramatic  master-works  which  Germany  has 
produced,  some  persons  have  the  presumption  to  be- 
little these  in  favor  of  Wagner's.  Yet  enough  of  this. 
The  future  will  pronounce  judgment  in  this  matter, 
too."  Poor  Schumann  !  His  own  opera,  "Genoveva," 
was  a  failure,  while  w  Tannhauser  "  and  "  Lohengrin  " 
were  everywhere  received  with  enthusiasm.  This 
was  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  ;  and  the  future  has 
judged,  "  Tannhauser  "  and  "  Lohengrin  "  being  now 
the  most  popular  of  all  works  in  the  operatic  reper- 
tory. 

What  caused  the  failure  of  Schumann's  only  opera 
was  not  a  lack  of  dramatic  genius,  but  of  theatrical 
instinct.  He  believed  that  in  "  Genoveva  "  "  every 
bar  is  thoroughly  dramatic ; "  and  so  it  is,  as  might 
have  been  expected  of  the  composer  of  such  an  in- 
tensely emotional  and  passionate  song  as  "  Ich  grolle 
nicht "  and  many  others.     But  Schubert,  too,  could 


138  SCHUMANN 

write  such  thrilling  five-minute  dramas  as  the  "  Erl- 
king  "  and  the  "Doppelganger,"  without  being  able  to 
compose  a  successful  opera.  Like  Schumann,  he  could 
not  paint  alfresco,  could  not  command  that  bolder 
and  broader  sweep  which  is  required  of  an  operatic 
composer.  It  is  characteristic  of  Schumann  that  he 
did  not  write  an  opera  till  late  in  life,  whereas  born 
operatic  composers  have  commonly  begun  their 
career  with  their  specialty.  Indeed,  it  was  only  ten 
years  before  he  composed  his  opera  that  Schumann 
wrote  to  a  friend :  "  You  ought  to  write  more  for 
the  voice.  Or  are  you,  perhaps,  like  myself,  who 
have  all  my  life  placed  vocal  music  below  instrument- 
al, and  never  considered  it  a  great  art?  But  don't 
speak  to  anyone  about  this."  Oddly  enough,  less 
than  a  year  after  this  he  writes  to  another  friend  : 
"  At  present  I  write  only  vocal  pieces.  ...  I 
can  hardly  tell  you  what  a  delight  it  is  to  write  for 
the  voice  as  compared  with  instruments,  and  how  it 
throbs  and  rages  within  me  when  I  am  at  work. 
Entirely  new  things  have  been  revealed  to  me,  and 
I  am  thinking  of  writing  an  opera,  which,  however, 
will  not  be  possible  until  I  have  entirely  freed  my- 
self from  editorial  work." 

Like  other  vocal  composers,  Schumann  suffered 
much  from  the  lack  of  suitable  texts.  In  one  letter 
he  suggests  that  Lenau  might  perhaps  be  induced 
to  write  a  few  poems  for  composers,  to  be  printed 


SCHUMANN  139 

in  "The  Zeitschrift : "  "the  composers  are  thirsting 
for  texts."  In  several  other  letters  we  become  famil- 
iar with  some  of  his  plans  which  were  never  executed, 
owing,  apparently,  to  the  shortcomings  of  the  libret- 
tists. One  of  these  was  R  Pohl,  who  in  all  earnest- 
ness sent  Schumann  a  serious  text  in  which  the  moon 
was  introduced  as  one  of  the  vocalists  !  Schumann 
mildly  remonstrated  that  "  to  conceive  of  the  moon 
as  a  person,  especially  as  singing,  would  be  too 
risky."  So  the  project  of  "  Ritter  Mond  "  was  aban- 
doned, and  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  Schumann  did 
not  reject  his  "  Genoveva  "  libretto,  which  was  largely 
responsible  for  the  failure  of  the  opera. 

One  project  of  Schumann's  is  mentioned  which  it 
is  to  be  very  much  regretted  he  never  carried  out. 
"  I  am  at  present  [1840]  preparing  an  essay  on 
Shakspere's  relations  to  music,  his  utterances  and 
views,  the  manner  in  which  he  introduces  music  in 
his  dramas,  etc.,  etc. — an  exceedingly  fertile  and  at- 
tractive theme,  the  execution  of  which  would,  it  is 
true,  require  some  time,  as  I  should  have  to  read  the 
whole  of  Shakspere's  works  for  this  purpose."  His 
object  was  to  send  this  to  Jena  as  a  dissertation  for 
a  Doctor's  degree,  with  which  he  hoped  to  soften 
the  heart  of  the  obdurate  Wieck,  who  opposed  his 
marriage  with  Clara,  and  at  the  same  time  to  make 
an  impression  on  the  public.  Schumann  had  had 
painful  experience  of  the  fact  that  for  genius  itself 


140  SCHUMANN 

there  is  little  recognition  in  Germany  unless  it  has 
a  handle  to  its  name — a  *  von"  or  a  "Herr  Doctor." 
Clara,  however,  loved  him  for  his  genius,  and  for  the 
impassioned  pieces  and  songs  he  wrote  to  express 
his  admiration  of  her  and  of  woman  in  general  ; 
and,  like  other  German  men  of  genius,  he  had  his 
reward — after  death.  "No  tone  poet,"  says  Nau- 
mann,  "  has  been  more  enthusiastic  in  the  praise  of 
woman  than  Kobert  Schumann  ;  he  was  a  second 
Frauenlob.  This  was  acknowledged  by  the  maidens 
of  Bonn,  who,  at  his  interment,  filled  the  cemetery, 
and  crowned  his  tomb  with  innumerable  garlands." 


IV 

MUSIC  AND  MOKALS 


MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

Ajlthough  music  in  the  complex  harmonic  form 
known  to  us  is  only  a  few  centuries  old,  simple  rhythm 
mic  melodies  were  sung,  or  played  on  various  in- 
struments, by  all  the  ancient  civilized  nations,  and 
are  sung  or  played  to-day  by  African  and  Australian 
savages  who  have  never  come  into  contact  with  civ- 
ilization. And  what  is  more,  the  remarkable  influ- 
ence which  music  has  in  arousing  human  emotions 
has  been  appreciated  at  all  times. 

Tourists  relate  that  in  some  of  the  inland  countries 
of  Africa,  scarcely  any  work  is  done  by  the  natives 
except  to  the  sound  of  music  ;  and  Cruikshank, 
speaking  of  the  coast  negroes,  says  it  is  laughable  to 
observe  the  effect  of  their  rude  music  on  all  classes, 
old  and  young,  men,  women,  and  children.  "  How- 
ever employed,  whether  passing  quietly  through  the 
street,  carrying  water  from  the  pond,  or  assisting 
in  some  grave  procession,  no  sooner  do  they  hear 
the  rapid  beats  of  a  distant  drum,  than  they  begin 
to  caper  and  dance  spontaneously.  The  bricklayer 
will  throw  down  his  trowel  for  a  minute,  the  carpen- 


144  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

ter  leave  his  bench,  the  corn  grinder  her  milling 
stone,  and  the  porter  his  load,  to  keep  time  to  the 
inspiriting  sound." 

Dr.  Tschudi,  in  his  fascinating  work  on  Peru,  de- 
scribes two  of  the  musical  instruments  used  by  the 
Indians,  and  their  emotional  function.  One  is  the 
Pututo,  "a  large  conch  on  which  they  perform 
mournful  music,  as  the  accompaniment  of  their  fun- 
eral dances."  The  other  is  called  Jaina,  and  is  a 
rude  kind  of  clarionet  made  from  a  reed.  "Its 
tone,"  says  Tschudi,  "  is  indescribable  in  its  melan- 
choly, and  it  produces  an  extraordinary  impression 
on  the  natives.  If  a  group  of  Indians  are  rioting 
and  drinking,  or  engaged  in  furious  conflicts  with 
each  other,  and  the  sound  of  the  Jaina  is  suddenly 
heard,  the  tumult  ceases,  as  if  by  a  stroke  of  magic. 
A  dead  stillness  prevails,  and  all  listen  devoutly  to 
the  magic  tones  of  the  simple  reed  ;  tones  which  fre- 
quently draw  tears  from  the  eyes  of  the  apathetic 
Indians." 

If  the  untutored  primitive  man  can  be  thus  over- 
powered by  the  charm  of  such  simple  music,  we  can 
hardly  wonder  at  the  extravagant  power  ascribed 
to  this  art  by  the  ancient  civilized  nations.  The 
fairy  tale  of  Orpheus,  who  tamed  wild  animals  and 
moved  rocks  and  trees  with  his  singing  and  play- 
ing, and  the  story  of  the  dolphin  that  was  attract- 
ed by  Arion's  song  and  carried  him  safely  across 


MUSIC   AND   MORALS  145 

the  sea,  are  quite  as  significant  as  if  they  were 
true  stories,  for  they  show  that  the  Greeks  were 
so  deeply  moved  by  music  that  they  could  readily 
imagine  it  to  have  a  similar  effect  on  animals,  and 
even  on  inanimate  objects.  Almost  three  thou- 
sand years  ago,  Homer  represented  Achilles  as 
"  comforting  his  heart  with  the  sound  of  the  lyre," 
after  losing  his  sweet  Briseis ;  "  stimulating  his 
courage  and  singing  the  deeds  of  the  heroes."  And, 
as  Emil  Naumann  fancies,  there  is  a  moral  under- 
lying the  myth  of  the  siren ;  "  for,  as  Homer  else- 
where suggests,  noble  and  manly  music  invigorates 
the  spirit,  strengthens  wavering  man,  and  incites 
him  to  great  and  worthy  deeds,  whereas  false  and 
sensuous  music  excites  and  confuses,  robs  man  of 
his  self-control,  till  his  passions  overcome  him  as 
the  waves  overwhelmed  the  bewitched  sailor  who  lis- 
tened to  the  voice  of  the  charmer." 

At  a  later  period  in  Greek  history,  the  philosoph- 
ers, including  Plato  and  Aristotle,  continued  to  at- 
tribute to  music  power  so  great,  that  we  can  only 
understand  them  if  we  bear  in  mind  that  with  the 
Greeks  the  word  music  was  a  comprehensive  term 
for  all  the  arts  presided  over  by  the  Muses,  and  that, 
even  when  music  in  our  sense  is  alluded  to  by  them, 
the  reference  is  at  the  same  time  to  the  poetry  which 
was  almost  always  associated  with  music,  and  made 
its  meaning  and  expression  more  definite.  Thus,  we 
10 


146  MUSIC  AND   MOEALS 

can  realize  how  Terpander  cou]d,  by  the  power  of 
his  song,  reconcile  the  political  factions  in  Sparta, 
and  how  Plato  could  write,  in  the  "  Kepublic,"  that 
"  any  musical  innovation  is  full  of  danger  to  the  state 
and  ought  to  be  prevented."  He  looked  upon  music 
as  a  tonic  which  does  for  the  mind  what  gymnastics 
do  for  the  body ;  and  taught  that  only  such  music 
ought  to  be  tolerated  by  the  state  as  had  a  moral 
purpose,  while  enervating  forms  should  be  sup- 
pressed by  the  law  makers. 

Yet,  after  making  due  allowance  for  the  fact  that 
the  word  music  was  used  in  this  comprehensive 
sense,  enough  remains  to  show  that  the  power  of 
music  proper,  the  power  of  rhythmic  melody,  was 
profoundly  appreciated  by  the  Greeks.  If  they  had 
not  felt  how  greatly  music  intensifies  and  quickens 
the  emotions,  they  would  not  have  wedded  all  their 
poetry  to  it,  nor  have  resorted  to  it  on  all  solemn  and 
festive  occasions  ;  nor  would  the  Pythagoreans  have 
found  anyone  willing  to  believe  in  their  doctrine 
that  music  has  power  to  control  the  passions.  "  They 
firmly  believed,"  saysNaumann,  "  that  sweet  harmony 
and  flowing  melody  alone  were  capable  of  restoring 
the  even  balance  of  the  disturbed  mind,  and  of  re- 
newing its  harmonious  relations  with  the  world. 
Playing  on  the  lyre,  therefore,  formed  part  of  the 
daily  exercises  of  the  disciples  of  the  renowned 
philosopher,  and  none  dared  seek  his  nightly  couch 


MUSIC   AND   MORALS  147 

without  having  first  refreshed  his  soul  at  the  fount 
of  music,  nor  return  to  the  duties  of  the  day  with- 
out having  braced  his  energies  with  jubilant  strains. 
Pythagoras  is  said  to  have  recommended  the  use  of 
special  melodies  as  antidotal  to  special  passions, 
and  indeed,  it  is  related  of  him  that  on  a  certain  oc- 
casion he,  by  a  solemn  air,  brought  back  to  reason 
a  youth  who,  maddened  by  love  and  jealousy,  was 
about  setting  fire  to  the  house  of  his  mistress." 

Similar  marvellous  powers  were  ascribed  to  music 
by  the  other  nations.  The  Chinese  have  an  old  say- 
ing that  "Music  has  the  power  to  make  Heaven  des- 
cend upon  earth."  This  art  was  constantly  kept 
under  rigid  supervision  by  the  government,  and  354 
years  before  Christ,  one  of  the  Emperors  issued  a 
special  edict  against  weak,  effeminate  music ;  to 
which,  therefore,  a  demoralizing  influence  was  obvi- 
ously attributed.  The  Japanese,  we  read,  likewise 
"  revere  music  and  connect  it  with  their  idol  wor- 
ship," and  in  olden  times  it  seems  to  have  had  even 
a  political  function,  for  it  is  said  that  "  formerly  an 
ambassador,  in  addressing  a  foreign  court  to  which 
he  was  accredited,  did  not  speak,  but  sang  his  mis- 
sion." The  Hindoos,  again,  attributed  supernatural 
power  to  music.  Some  melodies  had  the  power,  as 
they  believed,  to  bring  down  rain,  others  to  move 
men  and  animals,  as  well  as  lifeless  objects.  The  fact 
that  they  traced  the  origin  of  music  to  the  gods 


148  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

shows  in  what  esteem  they  held  it ;  and  their  quaint 
story  of  the  16,000  nymphs  and  shepherdesses,  each 
of  whom  invented  a  new  key  and  melody  in  her 
emulous  eagerness  to  move  the  heart  and  win  the 
love  of  the  handsome  young  god  Krishna,  shows  that 
the  amorous  power  of  music  was  already  understood 
in  those  days. 

Once  more,  the  exalted  notions  which  the  ancient 
Hebrews  had  of  the  dignity  and  importance  of  music, 
is  indicated  by  the  fact  that,  according  to  Josephus, 
the  treasures  of  Solomon's  Temple  (which  was  also 
a  great  school  of  music)  included  40,000  harps  and 
psalteries  of  pure  copper,  and  200,000  silver  trum- 
pets. In  the  schools  of  the  prophets,  musical  practice 
was  an  essential  item.  During  the  period  of  captiv- 
ity the  Israelites  at  first  gave  way  to  despondency, 
exclaiming,  "  How  shall  we  sing  the  Lord's  song  in 
a  strange  land  ?  "  "  But  by  and  by  they  would  take 
down  their  harps  again  from  the  willow  bows  and 
seek  solace  for  the  sorrows  of  the  long  exile  in  recall- 
ing the  loved  melody  of  their  native  land,  and  the 
sacred  psalmody  of  their  desolated  temple "  (Mc- 
Clintock  and  Strong).  There  was  hardly  an  occa- 
sion arising  above  the  commonplace  events  of  every- 
day life,  when  the  ancient  Hebrews  did  not  resort  to 
music.  Trumpets  were  used  at  the  royal  proclama- 
tions and  at  the  dedication  of  the  Temple.  There 
were  doleful  chants  for  funeral  processions ;  joyous 


MUSIC   AND   MORALS  149 

melodies  for  bridal  processions  and  banquets  ;  stir- 
ring martial  strains  to  incite  courage  in  battle  and 
to  celebrate  victories,  religious  songs,  and  domestic 
music  for  private  recreation  and  pleasure  ;  and  even 
"the  grape  gatherers  sang  as  they  gathered  in  the 
vintage,  and  the  wine-presses  were  trodden  with  the 
shout  of  a  song  ;  the  women  sang  as  they  toiled  at 
the  mill,  and  on  every  occasion  the  land  of  the  He- 
brews, during  their  national  prosperity,  was  a  land 
of  music  and  melody."  And  finally,  the  therapeu- 
tic value  of  music  and  its  power  to  stimulate  the 
creative  faculties  were  recognized.  The  prophets 
composed  their  songs  and  uttered  their  prophecies 
to  the  sound  of  musical  instruments,  and  David 
drove  out  the  evil  spirit  from  Saul,  as  we  read  in  the 
Bible  :  u  And  it  came  to  pass  when  the  spirit  from 
God  was  upon  Saul,  that  David  took  a  harp  and 
played  with  his  hands.  So  Saul  was  refreshed,  and 
was  well,  and  the  evil  spirit  departed  from  him." 

The  preceding  facts  sufficiently  illustrate  the 
effects  of  music  on  the  emotions  and  morals  of  an- 
cient and  primitive  nations.  Now,  within  the  Chris- 
tian era  music  has  made  enormous  strides  in  its 
evolution  as  an  art,  and  it  seems  therefore  reasona- 
ble to  infer  that  its  emotional  and  moral  power  has 
also  increased.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  a  tendency  has 
manifested  itself  of  late,  in  many  quarters,  to  flatly 
deny  the  emotional  and  moral  potency  of  music. 


150  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

The  late  Kichard  Grant  White,  for  instance,  in  a 
series  of  articles  on  the  Influence  of  Music,  in  "  The 
Atlantic  Monthly,"  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  "  a 
fine  appreciation  of  even  the  noblest  music  is  not 
an  indication  of  mental  elevation,  or  of  moral  purity, 
or  of  delicacy  of  feeling,  or  even  (except  in  music) 
of  refinement  of  taste."  "  The  greatest,  keenest 
pleasure  of  my  life,"  he  adds,  "  is  one  that  may  be 
shared  equally  with  me  by  a  dunce,  a  vulgarian,  or  a 
villain ;  "  and  he  ends  by  asserting,  dogmatically, 
that  a  taste  for  music  has  no  more  to  do  with  our 
minds  or  morals  than  with  our  complexions  or 
stature.  Dr.  Hanslick,  the  eminent  critic  and  pro- 
fessor of  musical  history  in  the  University  of  Vi- 
enna, goes  even  farther.  "  There  can  be  no  doubt," 
he  says,  "  that  music  had  a  much  more  direct  effect 
on  the  ancient  nations  than  it  has  on  us."  To-day, 
"  the  feelings  of  the  layman  are  affected  most,  those 
of  an  educated  artist  least,  by  music."  "  The  moral 
influence  of  tones  increases  in  proportion  as  the  cul- 
ture of  mind  and  character  decreases.  The  smaller 
the  resistance  offered  by  culture,  the  more  does  this 
power  strike  home.  It  is  well  known  that  it  is  on 
savages  that  music  exerts  its  greatest  influence." 

Let  us  briefly  test  these  sceptical  paradoxes  in  the 
light  of  mediaeval  history  and  modern  biography.  Is 
it  only  among  the  ancient  and  primitive  people,  and 
among  the  musically  uneducated,  that  the  divine  art 


MUSIC  AND  MORALS  151 

exerts  an  emotional  influence  ?  St.  Jerome  evidently 
did  not  think  so.  He  believed,  at  any  rate,  that  music 
can  exert  a  demoralizing  influence,  and  he  taught  that 
Christian  maidens  should  know  nothing  of  the  lyre 
and  the  flute.  The  eminent  divine  was  guided  in 
this  matter  by  the  same  process  of  illogical  reasoning 
of  which,  later,  the  Puritans  were  guilty  when  they 
banished  music  from  the  churches.  In  view  of  the 
fact  that  music  was  used  to  heighten  the  charms  of 
wanton  Roman  festivities  or  Pagan  rites,  St.  Jerome 
condemned  the  art  itself,  ignorant  of  the  fact  that 
music  can  never  be  immoral  in  itself,  but  only 
through  evil  associations.  St.  Augustine  took  a  dif- 
ferent view  of  music  from  St.  Jerome.  When  he 
first  heard  the  Christian  chant  at  Milan  he  ex- 
claimed :  "  Oh,  my  God !  When  the  sweet  voice  of 
the  congregation  broke  upon  mine  ear,  how  I  wept 
over  Thy  hymns  of  praise.  The  sound  poured 
into  mine  ears  and  Thy  truth  entered  my  heart. 
Then  glowed  within  me  the  spirit  of  devotion  ;  tears 
poured  forth,  and  I  rejoiced."  Here  we  have  an  il- 
lustration of  how  music  intensifies  and  exalts  the  emo- 
tions of  educated  men.  St.  Augustine's  devotion 
"  glowed  within  him  "  when  he  heard  the  music.  It  is 
for  this  power  that  the  church  has  always  employed 
music  as  a  hand-maid  ;  and  those  ecclesiastics  who 
would  to-day  banish  it  arbitrarily  from  the  church, 
know  not  what  a  valuable  ally  they  are  blindly  re- 


152  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

pulsing  in  these  days  of  religious  scepticism.  As 
Mr.  Gladstone  very  recently  remarked  :  "  Ever  since 
the  time  of  St.  Augustine,  I  might  perhaps  say  of 
St.  Paul,  the  power  of  music  in  assisting  Christian 
devotion  has  been  upon  record,  and  great  schools  of 
Christian  musicians  have  attested  and  confirmed  the 
union  of  the  art  with  worship." 

But  the  greatest  musical  enthusiast  in  the  ranks 
of  mediaeval  churchmen  was  Martin  Luther.  To 
judge  by  the  extraordinary  influence  which  music 
had  on  him,  Luther  must  doubtless  be  classed 
among  the  lowest  of  savages,  if  Dr.  Hanslick  is  right 
in  saying  that  it  is  on  savages  that  music  exerts  its 
greatest  influence.  He  wrote  a  special  treatise  on 
music,  in  which  he  placed  it  next  to  theology. 
"Besides  theology,"  he  wrote  in  a  letter  to  the 
musician  Senfel,  "  music  is  the  only  art  capable  of 
affording  peace  and  joy  of  the  heart  like  that  in- 
duced by  the  study  of  the  science  of  divinity.  The 
proof  of  this  is  that  the  devil,  the  originator  of  sor- 
rowful anxieties  and  restless  troubles,  flees  before 
the  sound  of  music  almost  as  much  as  he  does  be- 
fore the  Word  of  God.  This  is  why  the  prophets 
preferred  music  before  all  the  other  arts.  .  .  . 
proclaiming  the  Word  in  psalms  and  hymns.  .  .  . 
My  heart,  which  is  full  to  overflowing,  has  often 
been  solaced  and  refreshed  by  music  when  sick  and 
weary." 


V 

MUSIC   AND   MORALS  153 


Luther  had  a  good  voice  and  a  knowledge  of  mu- 
sical composition.  He  played  the  flute  and  the 
lute,  and  in  church  he  introduced  congregational 
singing,  in  ■which  the  people  took  an  active  part  in 
worship  by  means  of  the  chorales.  It  is  related 
that,  as  a  child,  he  used  to  sing  with  other  boys  in 
the  street  in  winter,  for  his  daily  bread,  and  that  on 
one  occasion,  Frau  Cotta  frantically  rushed  from 
her  house  on  hearing  his  pleading  tones,  took  him 
in,  and  gave  him  a  warm  meal.  Later  in  life,  when 
he  was  an  Augustine  monk,  he  often  chased  away 
his  melancholy  and  temptations  by  playing  on  his 
lute,  and  the  story  goes  that  "  one  day,  after  a  self- 
inflicted  chastisement,  he  was  found  in  a  fainting 
condition  in  his  cell,  and  that  his  cloistered  brethren 
recalled  him  to  consciousness  by  soft  music,  well 
knowing  that  music  was  the  balsam  for  all  wounds 
of  the  troubled  mind  of  their  !  dear  Martinus.* " 

Coming  to  more  recent  times,  we  find  that  some 
of  the  greatest  composers  and  other  men  of  genius 
were  "  savages,"  judged  by  Dr.  Hanslick's  standard. 

When  Congreve  wrote  that  "  music  hath  charms 
to  soothe  the  savage  breast,"  did  he  not  mean  to  im- 
ply that  educated  people  are  not  affected  by  it? 
Take  the  case,  for  instance,  of  that  old  barbarian, 
Joseph  Haydn,  and  note  how  he  was  affected  by  the 
"  Creation  "  when  he  heard  it  sung.  "  One  moment," 
he  said  to  Griesinger,  "  I  was  as  cold  as  ice,  and  the 


154  MUSIC  AND   MORALS 

next  I  seemed  on  fire,  and  more  than  once  I  feared 
I  should  have  a  stroke."  Another  "  savage,"  Cheru- 
bini,  when  he  heard  a  Haydn  symphony  for  the  first 
time,  was  so  greatly  excited  by  it  that  it  forcibly 
moved  him  from  his  seat.  "  He  trembled  all  over, 
his  eyes  grew  dim,  and  this  condition  continued 
long  after  the  symphony  was  ended.  Then  came 
the  reaction.  His  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  from 
that  instant  the  direction  of  his  work  was  decid- 
ed."   (Nohl.) 

Similar  incidents  might  be  quoted  from  the  bi- 
ographies of  almost  all  the  great  composers.  Ber- 
lioz, in  his  essay  on  Music,  after  referring  to  the 
story  of  Alexander  the  Great,  who  fell  into  a  delirium 
at  the  accents  of  Timotheus,  and  the  story  of  the 
Danish  King  Eric,  "whom  certain  songs  made  so 
furious  that  he  killed  some  of  his  best  servants," 
dwells  on  the  inconsistency  of  Rousseau,  who,  while 
ridiculing  the  accounts  of  the  wonders  worked  by 
ancient  music,  nevertheless,  "  seems  in  other  places 
to  give  them  enough  credence  to  place  that  ancient 
art.  which  we  hardly  know  at  all,  and  which  he  him- 
self knew  no  better  than  the  rest  of  us,  far  above 
the  art  of  our  own  day."  For  himself,  Berlioz  be- 
lieved that  the  power  of  modern  music  is  of  at  least 
equal  value  with  the  doubtful  anecdotes  of  ancient 
historians.  "How  often,"  he  says,  "have  we  not 
seen  hearers  agitated  by  terrible  spasms,  weep  and 


MUSIC   AND   MORALS  155 

laugh  at  once,  and  manifest  all  the  symptoms  of 
delirium  and  fever,  while  listening  to  the  master- 
pieces of  our  great  masters."  He  relates  the  case 
of  a  young  Provencal  musician,  who  blew  out  his 
brains  at  the  door  of  the  Opera  after  a  second  hear- 
ing of  Spontini's  "  Vestale,"  having  previously  ex- 
plained in  a  letter,  that  after  this  ecstatic  enjoyment, 
he  did  not  care  to  remain  in  this  prosaic  world  ; 
and  the  case  of  the  famous  singer  Malibran,  who, 
on  hearing  Beethoven's  Fifth  Symphony  for  the  first 
time,  at  the  Conservatoire,  "  was  seized  with  such 
convulsions  that  she  had  to  be  carried  out  of  the 
hall."  "We  have  in  such  cases,"  Berlioz  continues, 
"  seen  time  and  again,  serious  men  obliged  to  leave 
the  room  to  hide  the  violence  of  their  emotions  from 
the  public  gaze."  As  for  those  feelings  which  Ber- 
lioz owed  personally  to  music,  he  affirms  that  noth- 
ing in  the  world  can  give  an  exact  idea  of  them 
to  those  who  have  not  experienced  them.  Not 
to  mention  the  moral  affections  that  the  art  devel- 
oped in  him,  and  only  to  cite  the  impressions  re- 
ceived at  the  moment  of  the  performance  of  works 
he  admired,  this  is  what  he  says  he  can  affirm  in  all 
truthfulness :  "  While  hearing  certain  pieces  of 
music,  my  vital  forces  seem  at  first  to  be  doubled  ; 
I  feel  a  delicious  pleasure,  in  which  reason  has  no 
part ;  the  habit  of  analysis  itself  then  gives  rise  to 
admiration  ;   the   emotion,   growing  in   the   direct 


156  MUSIC   AND  MORALS 

ratio  of  the  energy  and  grandeur  of  the  composer's 
ideas,  soon  produces  a  strange  agitation  in  the  cir- 
culation of  the  blood  ;  my  arteries  pulsate  violently ; 
tears,  which  usually  announce  the  end  of  the  parox- 
ysm, often  indicate  only  a  progressive  stage  which 
is  to  become  much  more  intense.  In  this  case 
there  follow  spasmodic  contractions  of  the  muscles, 
trembling  in  all  the  limbs,  a  total  numbness  in  the 
feet  and  hands,  partial  paralysis  of  the  optic  and 
auditory  nerves.  I  can  no  longer  see,  I  can  hardly 
hear :  vertigo  .  .  .  almost  swooning  ..." 
Such  was  the  effect  of  music  on  Berlioz. 

As  in  a  matter  of  this  sort  personal  testimony  is 
of  more  value  than  anything  else,  I  may  perhaps  be 
permitted  to  refer  to  some  of  my  own  experiences. 
I  have  often  been  in  the  state  of  mind  and  body  so 
vividly  described  by  Berlioz,  except  as  regards  the 
numbness  of  the  extremities  and  the  partial  paral- 
ysis of  the  sensory  nerves.  Hundreds  of  times  I 
have  enjoyed  that  harmless  aesthetic  intoxication 
which  I  believe  to  be  more  delicious  to  the  initiated 
than  the  sweet  delights  of  an  opium  eater — a  musi- 
cal intoxication  which  does  not  only  fill  the  brain 
with  floods  of  voluptuous  delight,  but  sends  thrills 
down  the  spinal  column  and  to  the  very  finger-tips, 
like  so  many  electric  shocks.  As  a  boy,  every  ex- 
perience of  this  sort  fired  my  imagination  with  am- 
bition, and  led  to  all  sorts  of  noble  resolutions,  some 


MUSIC  AND  MORALS  157 

* 

of  which,  at  any  rate,  were  carried  into  execution. 
The  deepest  impression  ever  made  on  me  by  any 
work  of  art  was  at  Munich,  ten  years  ago,  when  I 
heard  for  the  first  time  Wagner's  "Tristan  and 
Isolde,"  which  I  was  already  familiar  with  through 
the  pianoforte  score.  The  performance  began  at 
six  o'clock,  and  I  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since  noon. 
It  lasted  till  eleven  o'clock,  and  one  might  imagine 
that,  after  all  this  emotional  excitement,  I  must  have 
been  ravenously  hungry.  So  I  was;  but  without 
the  slightest  affectation,  I  was  horrified  at  the  mere 
thought  of  indulging  in  such  a  coarse  act  as  eating 
after  enjoying  such  ravishing  music.  So  I  hurried 
back  to  the  hotel,  eager  to  get  into  my  room  and  in- 
dulge in  a  long  fit  of  weeping ;  and  not  a  wink  did  I 
sleep  that  night,  the  most  passionate  scenes  from 
the  opera  haunting  me  persistently,  and  almost  as 
vividly  as  if  I  had  been  back  in  the  theatre. 

Indeed,  it  was  the  irresistible  power  of  Wagner's 
music  that  first  made  me  go  to  Europe,  and  that 
changed  the  whole  current  of  my  life.  After  grad- 
uating from  Harvard  I  had  only  a  few  dollars  in  my 
pocket ;  but  instead  of  trying  to  find  employment 
and  earn  my  daily  bread,  I  recklessly  borrowed  $500 
of  a  good-natured  uncle  and  went  to  Europe,  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  attending  the  first  Bayreuth  Festival. 
I  had  about  four  hundred  dollars  when  I  arrived  in 
Bayreuth,  and  of  these  I  spent  two  hundred  and 


158  MUSIC   AND   MORALS 

twenty-five  dollars  for  tickets  for  the  three  series  of 
Nibelung  performances,  not  knowing  what  would 
become  of  me  after  the  remaining  one  hundred  and 
seventy-five  dollars  was  spent.  It  was  several  weeks 
before  the  performances,  and  Wagner  had  given 
strict  orders  that  no  one,  without  exception,  should 
be  admitted  to  the  rehearsals.  But  I  was  not  to  be 
so  easily  baffled,  and  one  afternoon  I  sneaked  into 
the  lobby  and  succeeded  in  catching  some  wonder- 
ful orchestral  strains  by  applying  my  ear  to  a  key- 
hole. But  my  pleasure  was  short-lived.  An  attend- 
ant espied  me  and  summarily  ordered  me  off  the 
premises,  despite  my  humble  entreaties  and  attempts 
at  bribery.  I  now  resolved  to  make  a  personal  ap- 
peal to  Wagner ;  so,  a  few  days  later,  as  he  was 
entering  the  theatre,  arm  in  arm  with  Wilhelmj,  I 
boldly  walked  up  to  him  and  told  him  I  had  bought 
tickets  to  all  the  performances,  but  was  very  anxious 
to  attend  the  rehearsals,  adding  that  I  represented 
a  New  York  and  a  Boston  journal.  At  the  mention 
of  the  word  newspaper,  a  frown  passed  over  his 
face,  and  he  said,  rather  abruptly,  "  I  don't  care  much 
about  newspapers.  I  can  get  along  without  them." 
But,  in  a  second,  a  smile  drove  away  the  frown  and 
he  added  :  "  I  have  given  orders  that  no  one  shall  be 
admitted.  However,  you  have  come  a  long  way — 
and  as  I  have  found  it  necessary  to  make  some  ex- 
ceptions, I  will  admit  you  too."     He  then  asked  fcr 


MUSIC  'and  morals  159 

my  card  and  told  me  I  would  be  admitted  by  men- 
tioning my  name  to  the  doorkeeper.  That  he  did 
not  bear  any  deep  resentment  against  me  for  un- 
fortunately being  a  newspaper  man,  he  showed  the 
next  day,  by  walking  up  to  me  and  asking  me  if  I 
had  succeeded  in  getting  in. 

I  mention  these  incidents  because  I  think  they 
help  to  disprove  the  notion  that  modern  music  has 
less  power  over  the  actions  and  feelings  of  men  than 
primitive  and  ancient  music.  It  was  the  wild  en- 
thusiasm inspired  in  me  by  Wagner's  earlier  operas 
that  led  me  irresistibly  to  Bayreuth,  and  I  really 
would  have  been  willing  to  toil  as  a  slave  for  years 
rather  than  miss  this  festival  And  my  experience  was 
that  of  hundreds  who  had  saved  up  their  pennies  for 
this  occasion,  or  had  formed  pools  and  drawn  lots 
if  the  sum  was  too  smalL  I  met  three  men  in  Bay- 
reuth who  had  scraped  together  enough  money  for  a 
third-class  trip  from  Berlin,  but  not  enough  to  pay 
for  a  complete  Nibelung  ticket  for  each.  So  they 
took  turns  and  each  heard  his  share  of  the  Trilogy. 
The  artists,  moreover,  the  greatest  in  Germany,  were 
prompted  by  their  enthusiasm  to  give  their  services 
at  this  festival  without  any  pecuniary  compensation. 
Such  actions  are  more  eloquent  of  deep  feeling  than 
any  words  could  be.  How  trivial  are  those  ancient 
myths  about  Arion  and  Orpheus  compared  with  this 
modern  fact — the  building  of  the  Bayreuth  Theatre 


160  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

with  the  million  marks   contributed  by  Wagner's 
admirers  in  all  parts  of  the  world  ! 

It  is  easy  to  see  how  Prof.  Hanslick  fell  into  the 
error  of  imagining  that  music  exerts  its  greatest  in- 
fluence on  savages.  He  probably  inferred  this  from 
the  fact  that  savages  are  more  obviously  excited  by 
it,  and  gesticulate  more  wildly,  than  we  do.  But 
this  does  not  prove  his  point.  Savages  are  more  de- 
monstrative in  their  expression  of  all  their  emotions 
than  we  are  ;  but  this  does  not  indicate  that  their 
emotions  are  deeper.  On  the  contrary,  as  the  poet 
has  told  us,  it  is  the  shallow  brooks  and  the  shallow 
passions  that  murmur;  "the  deep  are  dumb."  It 
is  a  rule  of  etiquette  in  civilized  society  to  repress 
any  extravagant  demonstration  of  feeling  by  gest- 
ures ;  and  this  is  the  reason  why  we  are  apparently 
less  affected  by  music  than  savages.  Yet,  how  dif- 
ficult it  is  even  to-day  to  repress  the  muscular  im- 
pulses imparted  by  gay  music,  is  seen  in  the  irresis- 
tible desire  to  dance  which  seizes  us  when  we  hear  a 
Strauss  waltz  played  with  the  true  Viennese  swing  ; 
and  in  the  provoking  habit  which  some  people  have 
of  beating  time  with  their  feet.  Would  anyone  as- 
sert that  a  man  who  thus  loudly  beats  time  with  his 
boots  is  more  deeply  affected  by  the  music  than  you 
or  I  who  keep  quiet  ?  Fiddlesticks  !  He  shows  just 
the  contrary.  If  he  had  as  delicate  and  intense  an 
appreciation  of  the  music  as  you  have,  he  would  know 


MUSIC  AND  MORALS  161 

that  the  noise  made  by  his  boots  utterly  mars  the 
purity  of  the  musical  sound,  and  jars  on  refined  ears 
like  the  filing  of  a  saw.  If  demonstrativeness  is  to  be 
taken  as  a  test  of  feeling,  then  the  ignorant  audiences 
who  stamp  and  roar  over  the  vulgar  horse-play  in  a 
variety  show  have  deeper  feelings  than  the  educated 
reader  who,  in  his  room,  enjoys  the  exquisite  works 
of  humor  of  the  great  writers  without  any  other 
expression  than  a  smile. 

Granted,  then,  that  music  has  as  much  power  to 
move  our  feelings  as  ever,  if  not  more,  and  bearing 
in  mind  that  feeling  is  the  chief  spring  of  action, 
does  it  not  follow  that  music  affects  our  moral  con- 
duct, making  us  more  refined  and  considerate  in  our 
dealings  with  other  people?  Not  necessarily  and 
obviously,  it  seems,  for  there  are  authorities  who, 
while  conceding  the  emotional  sway  of  music,  deny 
that  it  has  any  positive  moral  value.  The  eminent 
critic,  Prof.  Ehrlich,  takes  this  sceptical  attitude,  in 
his  "  History  of  Musical  ^Esthetics."  If  music,  and 
art  in  general,  has  power  to  soften  the  hearts  of  men, 
how  is  it,  he  asks,  that  the  citizens  of  Leipsic  did 
not  come  to  the  rescue  of  the  last  daughter  of  the 
great  Bach,  but  allowed  her  to  live  in  abject  poverty  ? 
And  how  is  that,  in  Florence  and  Rome,  some  of  the 
greatest  patrons  of  art  were  princes  who  were  ex- 
tremely unscrupulous  in  their  manner  of  getting  rid 
of  their  enemies  ?  Other  instances  might  be  added  to 


162  MUSIC   AND   MORALS 

those  given  by  Prof.  Erlich.  African  tourists  say 
that  the  Dahomans,  although  passionately  fond  of 
singing  and  of  instrumental  music,  are  probably  the 
most  cruel  of  all  negroes.  Nero,  the  crudest  of  em- 
perors, is  said  to  have  regaled  his  ears  with  music 
after  setting  fire  to  Rome  ;  and  you  have  all  heard 
the  story  of  the  two  famous  prima  donnas  whose 
vicious  temper  and  jealousy  drove  them  to  a  tooth 
and  nail  contest  on  the  stage,  right  before  the  pub- 
lic. Everybody  knows,  furthermore,  what  a  lot  of 
scamps  and  vagabonds  are  included  in  the  number 
of  so-called  music  teachers,  and  what  irregular  lives 
some  composers  have  led. 

At  first  sight,  these  facts  look  formidable  and  dis- 
couraging ;  but  they  are  nothing  of  the  sort.  If  any- 
one asserted  that  music  is  a  moral  panacea,  an  infal- 
lible cure  for  all  vices,  these  facts  would,  of  course, 
be  fatal  to  his  argument ;  but  no  one  would  be  so 
foolish  as  to  make  such  an  extravagant  claim  in 
behalf  of  music.  Music  may  be,  and  doubtless  is,  a 
moral  force,  but  it  is  not  strong  enough  to  overcome 
all  the  various  demoralizing  forces  that  counteract  it ; 
hence,  it  must  often  fail  to  show  triumphant  results. 
If  we  take  the  cases  just  cited,  and  examine  them 
separately,  we  see  that  they  are  delusive.  Is  it  not 
asking  a  good  deal  of  the  Leipsic  citizens  to  support 
the  poor  relatives  and  descendants  of  all  the  great 
men  that  city  has  produced  ?    If  Bach  himself  had 


MUSIC   AND  MOEALS  163 

lived  to  claim  their  charity,  I  am  convinced  he  would 
have  been  cared  for,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
probably  most  of  those  who  love  his  music  are  poor 
themselves,  while  the  public  at  large  does  not  even 
understand  it,  and  cannot,  therefore,  be  morally  af- 
fected by  it.  Similarly,  the  reason  why  the  Vien- 
nese allowed  Schubert  to  starve  was  not  because  his 
music  failed  to  make  them  generous,  but  because 
he  died  before  they  had  learned  even  to  understand 
it.  To-day  they  worship  his  very  bones,  and  build 
Schubert  museums  and  monuments. 

Again,  if  savages  and  emperors  can  be  musical  and 
cruel  at  the  same  time,  this  only  proves,  as  I  have 
just  said,  that  music  is  not  strong  enough  to  over- 
come all  the  vicious  inherited  and  cultivated  habits 
of  civilized  and  uncivilized  barbarians.  As  for  the 
fighting  prima  donnas,  it  is  obvious  that  a  singer 
whose  success  is  constantly  dependent  upon  the 
whims  of  a  fickle  public,  is  more  subject  than  almost 
any  other  mortal  to  constant  attacks  of  envy  and 
jealousy,  so  that  it  is  unfair  not  to  make  some  allow- 
ance for  temper  in  her  case.  Allowances  must  also  be 
made  for  music  teachers,  who,  from  the  very  nature 
of  their  profession,  rarely  hear  music  as  it  ought  to 
be,  and  therefore  naturally  become  impatient  and 
irritable.  They  illustrate,  not  the  normal,  but  the 
abnormal  effects  of  music.  Moreover,  owing  to  the 
lamentable  ignorance  of  so  many  parents  and  pupils, 


164  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

the  profession  of  music  teachers  is  invaded  with  im- 
punity by  hundreds  of  tramps  who  know  so  little  of 
music  that,  if  they  tried  to  become  cobblers  or  tailors 
with  a  corresponding  amount  of  knowledge,  they 
would  be  ignominiously  kicked  out  of  doors.  Surely 
it  is  unfair  to  lay  the  sins  of  these  vagabonds  on  the 
shoulders  of  music. 

Finally,  as  regards  the  moral  character  and  temper 
of  composers,  it  should  be  remembered  that,  if  some 
of  them  occasionally  gave  way  to  their  angry  passion, 
they  were  generally  provoked  to  it  by  the  obtuse- 
ness  and  insulting  arrogance  of  their  contempora- 
ries. Had  these  contemporaries  honored  and  com- 
mended them  for  enlarging  the  boundaries  of  art  and 
the  sphere  of  human  pleasures,  instead  of  torment- 
ing them  with  cruel  and  ignorant  criticisms,  the 
great  composers  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  amiable 
in  their  public  relations,  as  they  appear  to  have  been 
almost  invariably  toward  their  friends.  Wagner's 
pugnacity  and  frequent  ill-temper,  for  instance, 
arose  simply  from  the  fact  that,  while  he  was  toiling 
night  and  day  to  compose  immortal  master-works, 
his  contemporaries  not  only  refused  to  contribute 
enough  for  his  daily  bread,  but  assailed  him  on  all 
sides  with  malicious  lying,  stupid  criticisms,  with  as 
much  obvious  enjoyment  of  this  flaying  alive  of  a 
genius  as  if  they  were  a  band  of  Indians  torturing  a 
prisoner  of  war.     Among  his  friends,  Wagner  was 


MUSIC  AND  MORALS  165 

one  of  the  most  gentle,  tender,  and  kind-hearted  of 
men,  and  it  made  him  frantic  to  see  even  a  dumb 
animal  suffer.  He  wrote  a  violent  pamphlet  against 
vivisection,  and  one  day  missed  an  important  train 
because  he  stopped  to  scold  a  peasant  woman  who 
was  taking  to  the  market  a  basket  of  live  fish  in  the 
agony  of  suffocation.  I  hardly  know  of  a  great  com- 
poser who,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  was  not  gentle 
and  generous.  Bach,  Handel,  Haydn,  Mozart,  Gluck, 
Schubert,  Beethoven,  Schumann,  Mendelssohn,  We- 
ber, Liszt,  and  a  dozen  others  who  might  be  named, 
though  not  without  their  faults,  were  kind  and 
honest  men,  living  arguments  for  the  ennobling  ef- 
fects of  music. 

In  no  other  profession  can  men  and  women  be 
found  so  ready  to  aid  a  colleague  in  distress.  Take 
the  case  of  poor  Kobert  Franz,  for  instance,  who 
lost  his  hearing  through  the  whistle  of  a  locomotive, 
and  thereby  lost  his  professional  income,  and  was 
brought  to  the  verge  of  starvation  because  his  stupid 
contemporaries  (I  mean  ourselves)  refused  to  buy 
his  divine  songs.  Hardly  had  his  misfortune  become 
known  when  Liszt,  Joachim,  and  Frau  Magnus  ar- 
ranged a  concert  tour  for  his  benefit  which  netted 
$23,000,  and  insured  him  comfort  for  the  rest  of  his 
life. 

And  in  general,  let  me  ask,  why  is  it  that,  when- 
ever a  charitable  project  is  organized,  musicians  are 


166  MUSIC  AND   MORALS 

invariably  called  upon  first  to  give  their  services  ? 
Does  not  this  amount  to  an  eloquent  and  universal 
presumption  that  musical  people  are  generous  and 
kind-hearted  ? 

Nor  is  this  the  only  kind  of  presumption  indicat- 
ing that  music  commonly  goes  hand  in  hand  with 
kindness.  The  English  in  the  days  of  Elizabeth,  as 
Chappell  tells  us,  "had  music  at  dinner,  music  at 
supper,  music  at  weddings,  music  at  funerals,  music 
at  night,  music  at  dawn,  music  at  work,  music  at  play. 
He  who  felt  not,  in  some  degree,  its  soothing  in- 
fluence, was  viewed  as  a  morose  unmusical  being, 
whose  converse  ought  to  be  shunned,  and  regarded 
with  suspicion  and  distrust."  That  this  was  the 
general  sentiment  in  England  is  also  proved  by  the 
oft-quoted  passage  in  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice," 
where  Shakspere  notes  the  magic  effect  of  music  on 
men  and  animals,  and  concludes  with  the  verses — 

11  The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself 
Nor  is  not  moved  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems  and  spoils  ; 
The  motions  of  his  spirit  are  dull  as  night, 
And  his  affections  dark  as  Erehus ; 
Let  no  such  man  be  trusted." 

This,  of  course,  is  a  poetic  exaggeration,  for  we  know 
that  there  are  other  sources  of  refinement  besides 
music,  and  that  some  of  the  noblest  men  and  women 
can  hardly  tell  two  tunes  from  one  another.     Never- 


MUSIC  AND   MORALS  167 

theless,  the  general  presumption  remains  that  music 
and  jolly  good-nature  go  together,  and  that  music  is 
incompatible  with  crime.  An  experience  I  once  had 
in  Switzerland  brought  home  this  fact  to  my  mind 
in  a  forcible  manner.  I  was  taking  a  fortnight's 
tramp,  all  alone,  and  one  day  I  came  near  the  sum- 
mit of  a  mountain  pass  where,  some  time  previously, 
a  solitary  tourist  had  been  robbed  and  murdered. 
There  was  no  house  within  five  miles,  and  I  had  not 
met  a  soul  that  morning  until  I  approached  this 
place,  when  I  suddenly  saw  a  shabbily  dressed  man 
coming  down  the  road.  Not  having  any  weapon,  I 
could  not  but  feel  nervous,  and  my  heart  began  to 
beat  almost  audibly.  Presently  the  man,  who  had 
apparently  not  yet  noticed  me,  began  to  sing  a  Tyrol- 
ese  melody.  With  the  first  notes  all  my  fear  in- 
stantly vanished,  and  I  breathed  freely  again  ;  for  an 
instinctive  feeling  had  told  me  that  a  man  intent  on 
murder  and  robbery  would  not  sing. 

Such  presumptions,  however,  although  they  have 
some  weight  as  arguments,  do  not  amount  to  full 
proof.  Our  feelings  may  mislead  us,  and  cannot  be 
accepted  in  lieu  of  facts.  We  must  therefore  con- 
front our  problem  more  directly.  In  what  manner 
does  music  affect  our  moral  character?  Does  it 
make  us  less  inclined  to  murder,  stealing,  lying,  lust, 
avarice,  anger,  hatred,  jealousy,  dishonesty,  cruelty, 
and  other  vices  ?    And  if  so,  by  what  means? 


168  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

I  find  among  writers  on  Music  and  Morals,  a  curi- 
ous tendency  to  dodge  the  direct  question,  and  in- 
dulge in  side  issues  and  digressions.  Mr.  Haweis,  in 
his  book  on  the  subject,  talks  glibly  about  the  train- 
ing of  the  emotions,  and  has  much  to  tell  about  the 
lives  of  the  composers,  but  very  little  bearing  di- 
rectly on  his  subject.  Wagner,  in  one  of  his  essays, 
asserts  that  music  has  as  much  influence  on  tastes 
and  morals  as  the  drama  itself.  A  frivolous  and  effe- 
minate taste,  he  says,  cannot  but  affect  our  moral 
conduct.  The  Spartans  understood  this  when  they 
forbade  certain  kinds  of  music  as  demoralizing.  He 
believes  that  men  who  are  inspired  by  Beethoven's 
music  make  more  active  and  energetic  citizens  than 
those  who  are  charmed  by  Rossini,  Bellini,  and  Doni- 
zetti ;  and  he  refers  to  the  fact  that  in  Paris,  at  a 
certain  period,  music  became  more  and  more  frivol- 
ous as  the  people  degenerated  morally.  At  the  same 
time  he  is  obliged  to  admit  that  this,  perhaps,  proves 
rather  the  effect  of  morals  on  music  than  of  music 
on  morals  ;  and  so  our  problem  remains  in  a  vague 
twilight. 

To  gain  more  light  on  the  subject,  let  us  take  a 
few  specific  cases.  Does  the  influence  of  music  make 
us  less  inclined  to  perpetrate  murder,  suicide,  or 
cruel  practices  ?  Everybody  has  heard  the  story  of 
the  famous  Italian  composer  and  vocalist,  Stradella, 
whose  wonderful  singing  in  an  oratorio  made  such  a 


MUSIC  AND   MORALS  169 

profound  impression  on  two  men  who  had  been  hired 
to  murder  him,  that  they  not  only  spared  him,  but 
gave  him  warning  that  his  life  was  in  danger.  This 
story  is  now  regarded  as  a  myth  by  some  of  the 
best  authorities ;  but  the  fact  that  it  was  so  long 
believed  universally  is  not  without  significance. 
Take  another  case,  which,  though  occurring  in  a  fic- 
ticious drama,  might  easily  be  true.  Faust,  in  Goe- 
the's drama,  when  on  the  point  of  committing  sui- 
cide, is  brought  back  to  his  senses  on  suddenly 
hearing  the  Easter  hymn.  But  in  this  case  it  might 
be  said  it  was  not  the  music  itself,  but  the  religious 
and  other  associations  and  memories  awakened  by  it, 
that  prevented  Faust  from  carrying  out  his  criminal 
intention.  Such  associations  must  always  be  taken 
into  account  when  estimating  the  moral  value  of 
music  ;  and  yet  they  do  not  explain  everything.  A 
residue  is  left  which  must  be  placed  to  the  credit  of 
music. 

Perhaps  the  vice  best  adapted  to  illustrate  the 
direct  influence  of  musical  culture  is  cruelty.  K 
you  find  a  boy  in  the  back  yard  torturing  a  cat  or 
a  dog,  or  bullying  and  maltreating  his  playmates,  it 
will  probably  do  no  good  to  sing  or  play  to  him  by 
way  of  softening  his  heart.  On  the  contrary,  he 
will  probably  not  appreciate  or  understand  the  mu- 
sic at  all,  and  the  interruption  will  only  annoy  and 
anger  him.     But  if  you  take  that  same  boy  and  put 


170  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

him  in  a  house  where  there  is  an  infectious  musical 
atmosphere,  the  chances  are  that  before  long  his  feel- 
ings will  undergo  a  change,  and  he  will  no  longer  de- 
rive any  pleasure  from  cruelty.  This  pleasure  is  one 
which  boys  share  with  savages,  and  the  best  way  to 
eradicate  it  is  by  cultivating  the  aesthetic  sensibili- 
ties. "It  cannot  be  doubted,"  says  Eduard  von 
Hartmann,  in  his  "  Philosophie  des  Schonen,"  "that 
aesthetic  culture  is  one  of  the  most  important  means 
of  softening  the  moral  sentiments  and  polishing 
coarse  habits ; "  and  Shelley,  in  his  "  Defence  of 
Poetry,"  says,  "It  will  readily  be  confessed  that 
those  among  the  luxurious  citizens  of  Syracuse  and 
Alexandria  who  were  delighted  with  the  poems  of 
Theocritus  were  less  cold,  cruel,  and  sensual  than 
the  remnant  of  their  tribe." 

Now,  music  seems  to  be  better  adapted  to  bring 
about  a  regeneration  of  the  heart  than  even  poetry, 
and  for  two  reasons :  In  the  first  place,  poetry  can, 
and  often  does,  inculcate  immoral  sentiments, 
whereas  music,  pure  and  simple,  can  never  be  im- 
moral. As  Dr.  Johnson  remarks,  "Music  is  the 
only  sensual  pleasure  without  vice."  Secondly,  it  is 
in  childhood  that  our  moral  habits  are  formed,  and 
it  is  well  known  that  children  are  susceptible  to  the 
influence  of  music  at  least  five  or  ten  years  before 
they  can  really  understand  poetry.  The  infant  in 
arms  has  its  impatience  and  anger  subdued  count- 


MUSIC  AND  MORALS  171 

less  times  by  the  charms  of  a  cradle  song  ;  and  in 
this  way  music  sweetens  its  temper,  turns  its  frowns 
into  smiles,  and  prevents  it  from  becoming  habitu- 
ally cross  and  vicious.  True,  some  young  children 
also  like  to  read  and  recite  poetry,  but  what  delights 
them  in  this  case  is  the  musical  jingle  of  rhyme  and 
rhythm,  rather  than  the  specific  qualities  of  the  verse. 
Later  in  life,  when  the  children  go  to  school,  they 
are,  as  expert  testimony  proves,  beneficially  affected 
by  singing  together,  which  rests  and  refreshes  the 
brain,  and  teaches  them  the  value  and  beauty  of  co- 
operation. While  thus  singing,  each  child  experi- 
ences the  same  joyous  or  sad  feelings  as  its  class- 
mates, and  learns  in  this  way  the  great  moral  lesson 
of  sympathy.  And  this  brings  us  back  to  what  was 
said  a  moment  ago  regarding  the  vice  of  cruelty. 
Sympathy  is  the  correlative  and  antidote  of  cruelty. 
If  savages  were  not  utterly  devoid  of  sympathy,  they 
would  not  take  such  strange  delight  in  witnessing 
the  cruel  tortures  they  inflict  upon  their  prisoners. 
Indeed,  it  may  be  asserted  that  almost  all  crimes 
spring  from  a  lack  of  sympathy,  and  modified  forms 
of  cruelty.  If  you  reflect  a  moment,  you  must  ad- 
mit that  a  man  who  is  truly  sympathetic — that  is, 
who  rejoices  in  his  neighbor's  happiness  and  grieves 
over  his  misfortunes — can  be  neither  ungenerous,  nor 
deceitful,  nor  covetous,  nor  jealous,  nor  ferocious, 
nor  avaricious,  etc.  ;  and  one  need  not  therefore  be 


172  MUSIC  AND   MOEALS 

a  pantheist  to  agree  with  Schopenhauer,  that  Mit- 
leid,  or  sympathy,  is  the  basis  of  all  virtues.  If, 
therefore,  it  can  be  shown  that  music  is  a  powerful 
agent  in  developing  this  feeling  of  sympathy,  its  far- 
reaching  moral  value  will  become  apparent.  And 
this  can  be  done  easily. 

Kousseau  named  his  collection  of  songs  "  The 
Consolations  of  the  Miseries  of  my  Life  ; "  Shaks- 
pere  called  music  "The  food  of  love;"  and  Cho- 
pin, in  one  of  his  letters  to  a  friend,  after  referring 
to  his  first  love  affair,  adds,  "  How  often  I  relate  to 
my  piano  everything  I  should  like  to  communicate 
to  you."  Similar  remarks  might  be  quoted  by  the 
score  from  the  letters  of  composers  and  other  great 
men  devoted  to  music,  showing  that  music  is  valued 
like  a  personal  friend  who  is  always  ready  to  sym- 
pathize with  our  joys  and  sorrows.  And  when  a 
real  music-lover  comes  across  a  beautiful  new  piece, 
how  he  bubbles  over  with  enthusiasm  to  play  or 
sing  it  to  his  friends,  and  let  them  share  the  pleas- 
ure ;  his  own  being  doubled  thereby !  I  know  of 
no  other  art  that  so  vividly  arouses  this  unselfish 
feeling,  this  desire  for  sympathetic  communion.  In- 
deed, music  is  the  most  unselfish  of  all  the  arts.  A 
poem  is  generally  read  in  solitude,  and  a  picture 
can  be  seen  by  only  a  few  at  a  time  ;  but  a  concert 
or  opera  may  be  enjoyed  by  5,000  or  more  at  a 
time — the  more  the  merrier.     I  have  already  stated 


MUSIC   AND   MOKALS  173 

that  in  public  schools  music  helps  to  develop  a  sym- 
pathetic feeling  of  mutual  enjoyment.  And  why  is 
it  that  music,  ever  since  the  days  of  the  ancient 
Hebrews  and  Greeks,  has  been  always  provided  at 
political  meetings  and  processions,  at  picnics, 
dances,  funerals,  weddings — in  short,  at  all  social 
and  public  gatherings  ?  Obviously,  because  it  has 
the  power  of  uniting  the  feelings  of  many  into  one 
homogeneous  and  sympathetic  wave  of  emotion.  It 
has  a  sort  of  compulsive  force  which  hurries  along 
even  those  who  are  sluggish  or  unwilling.  Plato,  in 
his  Kepublic,  gives  the  curious  advice  that,  at  meet- 
ings of  older  people  wine  should  be  distributed,  in 
order  to  make  them  more  pliable  and  receptive  to 
the  counsel  of  sages.  Many  would  object  to  such  a 
risky  policy,  which,  moreover,  can  well  be  dispensed 
with,  since  music  has  quite  as  much  power  as  wine 
to  arouse  a  sympathetic  and  enthusiastic  state  of 
mind  at  a  public  assembly,  and  without  any  danger 
of  disastrous  consequences.  It  is  the  special  function 
of  music  to  intensify  all  the  emotions  with  which  it 
is  associated.  It  inflames  the  courage  of  an  army 
of  soldiers  marching  on  to  defend  their  country, 
their  homes  and  families.  It  exalts  the  religious 
feelings  of  church-goers,  and  makes  them  more  sus- 
ceptible to  the  minister's  moral  counsels.  Is  it  not 
absurd  to  say  that  such  an  art  has  no  moral  value  ? 
One  of  the  most  eloquent  of  modern  preachers,  the 


174  MUSIC   AND   MORALS 

late  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  went  so  far  as  to  admit 
that  "  In  singing,  you  come  into  sympathy  with  the 
Truth  as  you  perhaps  never  do  under  the  preaching 
of  a  discourse." 

The  Kev.  Dr.  Haweis  also  bears  testimony  to  the 
moral  value  of  music,  in  the  following  words:  "I 
have  known  the  Oratorio  of  the  Messiah  draw  the 
lowest  dregs  of  Whitechapel  into  a  church  to  hear  it, 
and  during  the  performance  sobs  have  broken  forth 
from  the  silent  and  attentive  throng.  Will  anyone 
say  that  for  these  people  to  have  their  feelings  for 
once  put  through  such  a  noble  and  long-sustained 
exercise  as  that,  could  be  otherwise  than  beneficial  ? 
If  such  performances  of  both  sacred  and  secular  mu- 
sic were  more  frequent,  we  should  have  less  drunk- 
enness, less  wife-beating,  less  spending  of  sum- 
mer gains,  less  winter  pauperism.  People  get  drunk 
because  they  have  nothing  else  to  do  ;  they  beat  their 
wives  because  their  minds  are  narrow,  their  tastes 
brutal,  their  emotions,  in  a  word,  ill-regulated." 

These  remarks  suggest  one  of  the  most  important 
moral  functions  of  music — that  of  weaning  the  people 
from  low  and  demoralizing  pleasures.  In  proportion 
as  the  masses  are  educated  to  an  appreciation  of  the 
subtle  and  exquisite  pleasures  afforded  by  the  fine 
arts,  and  especially  by  music,  will  they  become  in- 
different to,  and  abhor,  exhibitions  which  involve 
cruelty  to  man  and  animals,  such  as  dog-fights,  box- 


MUSIC  AND  MORALS  175 

ing-matches,  dangerous  and  cruel  circus  tricks,  ex- 
ecutions of  criminals,  etc.  The  pleasure  derived 
from  such  brutal  exhibitions  is  the  same  in  kind  as 
that  which  prompts  savages  to  flay  alive  their  prison- 
ers of  war.  And  the  morbid  pleasure  which  so  many 
apparently  civilized  people  take  in  reading  in  the 
newspapers,  column  after  column,  about  such  brutal 
sports,  is  the  survival  of  the  same  unsympathetic 
feeling.  I  am  convinced  that  no  one  who  really  ap- 
preciates the  poetic  beauty  of  a  Schubert  song  or  a 
Chopin  nocturne  can  read  these  columns  of  our  news- 
papers without  feelings  of  utter  disgust.  And  I  am 
as  much  convinced  as  I  am  of  my  own  existence, 
that  a  man  who  derives  more  pleasure  from  good 
music  than  from  these  vulgar  columns  in  the  news- 
papers, is  morally  more  trustworthy  than  those  who 
gloat  over  them.  Music  can  impart  only  good  im- 
pulses ;  whereas,  we  hear  every  day  of  boys  and  men 
who,  after  reading  a  dime  novel  or  the  police  column 
in  a  newspaper,  were  prompted  to  commit  the  crimes 
and  indulge  in  the  vices  they  had  read  about. 
Hence,  if  people  could  be  weaned  from  the  vulgar 
pleasure  of  reading  about  crimes  and  scandals,  and 
taught  instead  to  love  innocent  music,  can  any  one 
doubt  that  they  would  be  morally  the  better  for  it  ? 
Just  as  a  tendency  to  drunkenness  can  best  be  com- 
bated by  creating  a  taste  for  harmless  light  wines  and 
beer  in  place  of  coarse  whiskey  and  gin,  so  a  love  of 


176  MUSIC   AND   MORALS 

demoralizing  and  degrading  amusements  can  best 
be  eradicated  by  educating  the  poetic  and  musical 
sensibilities  of  the  masses.  Why  are  the  lower 
classes  in  Germany  so  much  less  brutal,  degraded, 
and  dangerous  than  the  same  classes  in  England  ? 
Obviously,  because,  after  their  day's  labor,  they  do 
not  drink  poisonous  liquor  in  a  dirty  den  of  crime, 
but  go  to  sip  a  few  glasses  of  harmless  beer  in  a 
garden  while  listening  to  the  merry  sounds  of  music. 
Men  will  have,  and  must  have,  their  pleasures. 
Social  reformers  and  temperance  agitators  could 
not  make  a  greater  mistake  than  by  following  the 
example  of  the  Puritans  and  tabooing  all  pleasures. 
They  ought  to  distinguish  between  those  that  have  a 
tendency  to  excess  and  vice,  and  those  that  are  harm- 
less and  ennobling,  encouraging  the  latter  in  every 
possible  way.  And  first  among  those  that  should  be 
encouraged  is  music,  because  it  is  always  ennobling, 
and  can  be  enjoyed  simultaneously  by  the  greatest 
number.  Its  effect  is  well  described  in  Margaret 
Fuller's  private  journal :  "  I  felt  raised  above  all 
care,  all  pain,  all  fear,  and  every  taint  of  vulgarity 
was  washed  out  of  the  world."  I  think  this  is  an 
extremely  happy  expression.  Female  writers  some- 
times have  a  knack  of  getting  at  the  heart  of  a  prob- 
lem by  instinct,  more  easily  than  men  with  their 
superior  reasoning  powers.  "Every  taint  of  vulgar- 
ity washed  out  of  the  world  by  music."    That  is  pre- 


MUSIC   AND   MORALS  177 

cisely  wherein  the  moral  power  of  music  lies ;  for 
vulgarity  is  the  twin  sister  of  vice.  It  is  criminal  to 
commit  a  murder  ;  it  is  vulgar  to  gloat  over  the  con- 
tagious details  of  it  in  books  and  newspapers.  But 
how  rampant  vulgarity  still  is,  and  how  rare  aesthetic 
culture,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  two-thirds  of 
the  so-called  news  in  many  of  our  daily  papers  con- 
sist of  detailed  reports  of  crimes  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  which  are  eagerly  read  by  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands, while  our  concert  halls  have  to  be  filled  with 
dead-heads. 

There  is  one  more  way  in  which  music  affects  our 
moral  life,  to  which  I  wish  to  call  attention,  namely, 
through  its  value  as  a  tonic.  No  operatic  manager 
has  ever  thought  of  advertising  his  performances  as 
a  tonic,  yet  he  might  do  so  with  more  propriety 
than  the  patent  medicine  venders  whose  grandilo- 
quent advertisements  take  up  so  much  space  in  our 
newspapers.  Plato,  in  the  "  Laws,"  says  that  "  The 
Gods,  pitying  the  toils  which  our  race  is  born  to 
undergo,  have  appointed  holy  festivals  in  which  men 
rest  from  their  labors."  Lucentio,  in  "  The  Taming 
of  the  Shrew,"  advances  the  same  opinion  in  more 
definite  and  pungent  terms : 

"  Preposterous  ass !  that  never  read  so  far 
To  know  the  cause  why  music  was  ordain'd ! 
Was  it  not  to  refresh  the  mind  of  man 
After  his  studies,  or  his  usual  pain  ?  " 
12 


178  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

There  can  be  no  doubt  whatever  that  music  has  the 
most  remarkable  effect,  not  only  on  our  minds,  but 
on  our  bodies.  Physiologists  tell  us  that  different 
kinds  of  mental  activity  are  carried  on  in  different 
parts  of  the  brain,  and  that,  in  order  to  recover 
from  fatigue,  we  need  not  rest  altogether,  but  merely 
take  up  some  other  kind  of  work.  Hundreds  of 
times  I  have  found  that,  however  much  I  may  be 
fatigued  by  a  day's  brain  work,  I  can  play  all  the 
evening,  or  attend  a  concert  or  opera,  without  in  the 
least  adding  to  my  fatigue.  On  the  contrary,  in 
most  cases  it  disappears  altogether,  the  music  act- 
ing on  the  mind  as  a  surf  bath  does  on  the  body. 
Like  many  others,  I  have  found  that  the  best  way 
to  cure  a  headache  is  to  attend  an  orchestral  con- 
cert. It  works  like  a  charm.  It  stirs  up  the  circula- 
tion in  the  brain  as  a  brisk  walk  does  in  the  body. 
Even  brain  disease  is  eased  in  this  way.  The  power 
of  music  even  to  cure  insanity  altogether,  was  fre- 
quently maintained  in  ancient  and  mediaeval  times. 
This  claim  is  doubtless  exaggerated,  yet  there  is  more 
than  a  grain  of  truth  in  it.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  violent  maniacs  can  be  calmed,  and  melancholy 
ones  cheered  and  soothed,  by  music.  To  get  an 
authoritative  opinion  on  this  subject,  I  wrote  to 
Dr.  Hammond.  He  answered :  "I  know  of  no 
cases  of  insanity  that  have  been  cured  by  music, 
but  I  have  seen  many  cases  in  which  music  has 


MUSIC  AND   MORALS  179 

quieted  insane  persons,  exerting  the  same  calming 
influence  that  it  does  on  most  of  us  when  we  are 
irritated  by  petty  annoyances." 

"When  we  are  irritated  by  petty  annoyances." 
It  is  then  that  music  becomes  a  medicine  and  a 
moral  tonic.  Writers  on  ethics  have,  hitherto,  too 
much  overlooked  the  moral  importance  of  health. 
Where  there  is  a  lack  of  health,  we  rarely  find  any 
moral  sweetness  of  temper.  The  vices  may  be 
small  and  peevish,  but  in  their  aggregate  they  are 
enough  to  poison  the  happiness  of  the  household. 
If  a  man  comes  to  ruin  from  drink  and  the  crimes  it 
leads  him  to  commit,  we  call  him  immoral.  But  is 
he  not  also  immoral  if,  from  excess  of  work  and 
worry,  and  wilful  neglect  of  exercise,  rest,  and  rec- 
reation, he  breaks  down  and  beggars  his  family,  be- 
coming a  burden  to  them  instead  of  a  help  ?  I  think 
he  is,  and  that,  instead  of  pitying  such  a  man,  we 
should  censure  him.  Ignorance  of  the  laws  of  hy- 
giene, physical  and  mental,  is  no  valid  excuse.  He 
can  buy  a  book  on  the  subject  for  one  dollar.  But 
he  does  not  even  need  to  do  that  Music,  we  read 
in  Shakespere,  has  the  power  of  "  killing  care  and 
grief  of  heart,"  and  what  he  needs,  therefore,  is  to 
hear  some  good  music  every  evening,  at  home  or  at 
the  opera.  This  will  draw  the  blood  from  the  over- 
worked part  of  his  brain  to  another  part,  and  by  thus 
relieving  it  of  the  tormenting  persistency  of  worry- 


180  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

ing  thoughts  and  business  cares,  enable  him  to  enjoy 
refreshing,  dreamless  sleep  afterward.  In  this  way 
music  may  help  to  restore  his  health,  cure  his  dys- 
pepsia, and  sweeten  his  moral  temper. 

In  America,  more  than  anywhere  else,  is  music 
needed  as  a  tonic,  to  cure  the  infectious  and  ridicu- 
lous business  fever  which  is  responsible  for  so  many 
cases  of  premature  collapse.  Nowhere  else  is  so 
much  time  wasted  in  making  money,  which  is  then 
spent  in  a  way  that  contributes  to  no  one's  happi- 
ness— least  of  all  the  owner's.  We  Americans  are 
in  the  habit  of  calling  ourselves  the  most  practical 
nation  in  the  world,  but  the  fact  is  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  find  a  nation  less  practical.  For,  what  is  the 
object  of  life  ?  Is  it  to  toil  like  a  galley  slave  and 
never  have  any  amusements  ?  Every  nation  in  Eu- 
rope, except  the  English,  knows  better  how  to  en- 
joy the  pleasures  of  life  than  we  do.  Our  so-called 
"  practical "  men  look  upon  recreation  as  something 
useless,  whereas  in  reality  it  is  the  most  useful 
thing  in  the  world.  Kecreation  is  re-creation — 
regaining  the  energies  lost  by  hard  work.  Those 
who  properly  alternate  recreation  with  work,  econ- 
omize their  brain  power,  and  are  therefore  infinite- 
ly more  practical  than  those  who  scorn  or  neglect 
recreation. 

The  utility  and  the  moral  value  of  refined  pleas- 
ures is  not  sufficiently  understood.     It  should  be 


MUSIC   AND   MORALS  181 

proclaimed  from  the  housetops  every  day.  Bread 
and  butter  to  eat,  and  a  bed  to  sleep  in,  are  not  the 
only  useful  things  in  the  world,  but,  in  the  words 
of  Shelley,  "  Whatever  strengthens  and  purines 
the  affections,  enlarges  the  imagination,  and  adds 
spirit  to  sense,  is  useful."  Music  is  useful  because 
it  does  this,  and  it  is  useful  in  many  other  ways. 
Singing  strengthens  the  lungs,  playing  the  muscles, 
and  both  stimulate  the  mind.  Milton,  Schiller, 
George  Sand,  Alfieri,  and  other  geniuses  have  testi- 
fied that  music  aroused  their  creative  faculties  ;  and 
in  Beaconsfield's  "  Contarini  "  occurs  this  passage  : 
"  I  have  a  passion  for  instrumental  music.  A  grand 
orchestra  fills  my  mind  with  ideas.  I  forget  every- 
thing in  the  stream  of  invention."  Furthermore, 
music  is  a  stepping-stone  to  social  success.  A 
gifted  amateur  is  welcomed  at  once  into  circles  to 
which  others  may  vainly  seek  admission  for  years  ; 
and  a  young  lady  with  a  musical  voice  has  a  great 
advantage  in  the  period  of  courtship.  But  most 
important  of  all  is  the  moral  value  of  music  as  an 
ennui  killer.  Ennui  leads  to  more  petty  crimes 
than  anything  else ;  and  a  devotee  of  music  need 
never  suffer  a  moment's  ennui.  There  are  enough 
charming  songs  and  pieces  to  fill  up  every  spare 
moment  in  our  lives  with  ecstatic  bliss,  and  to  ban- 
ish all  temptation  to  vice.  It  is  in  reference  to  sim- 
ilar pleasures  that  Sir  John  Lubbock,  in  his  essay 


182  MUSIC  AND  MORALS 

on  the  "  Duty  of  Happiness,"  exclaims :  "  It  is  won- 
derful, indeed,  how  much  innocent  happiness  we 
thoughtlessly  throw  away."  The  art  of  enjoying 
life  is  an  accomplishment  which  few  have  thor- 
oughly mastered. 


ITALIAN    AND    GERMAN    VOCAL 
STYLES 


ITALIAN    AND    GERMAN    VOCAL 
STYLES 

Why  is  it  that  most  persons  are  more  interested 
in  vocal  than  in  instrumental  music?  Obviously 
because,  as  Kichard  Wagner  remarks,  "  the  human 
voice  is  the  oldest,  the  most  genuine,  and  the  most 
beautiful  organ  of  music — the  organ  to  which  alone 
our  music  owes  its  existence."  And  not  only  is  the 
sound  or  quality  of  the  human  voice  more  beauti- 
ful than  that  of  any  artificial  instrument,  but  it  is 
capable  of  greater  variation.  Although  a  good  art- 
ist can  produce  various  shades  of  tone  on  his  in- 
strument, yet  every  instrument  has  a  well-defined 
characteristic  timbre,  which  justifies  us  in  speaking, 
for  instance,  of  the  majestic,  solemn  trombone,  the 
serene  flute,  the  amorous  violoncello,  the  lugubrious 
bassoon,  and  so  on.  The  human  voice,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  much  less  limited  in  its  powers  of  tonal 
and  emotional  coloring.  It  is  not  dependent  for 
its  resonance  on  a  rigid  tube,  like  the  flute,  or  an 
unchangeable  sounding-board,  like  the  violin  or 
the  piano,  but  on  the  cavity  of  the  mouth,  which 


186     ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

can  be  enlarged  and  altered  at  will  by  the  move- 
ments of  the  lower  jaw,  and  the  soft  parts — the 
tongue  and  the  glottis.  These  movements  change 
the  overtones,  of  which  the  vowels  are  made  up, 
and  hence  it  is  that  the  human  voice  is  capable  of 
an  infinite  variety  of  tone-color,  compared  with 
which  Wagner  admits  that  even  "  the  most  mani- 
fold imaginable  mixture  of  orchestral  colors  must 
appear  insignificant." 

Notwithstanding  that  the  superiority  of  the  voice 
is  thus  conceded,  even  by  the  greatest  magician  of 
the  orchestra,  we  daily  hear  the  complaint  that  the 
good  old  times  of  artistic  singing  are  gone  by,  and 
have  been  superseded  by  an  instrumental  era,  in 
which  the  voice  merely  plays  the  part  of  the  second 
fiddle  and  is  maltreated  by  composers,  who  do  not 
understand  its  real  nature.  So  far  is  this  opinion 
from  the  truth  that  it  must  be  said,  contrariwise, 
that  it  is  only  within  the  last  century — I  might  al- 
most say  the  last  half  century — that  composers  have 
begun  fully  to  recognize  the  true  function  of  the 
human  voice  and  its  principal  advantage  over  in- 
struments. 

What  is  this  advantage?  It  is  the  power  of  ar- 
ticulating, of  uniting  poetry  with  music,  definite 
words  with  indefinite  tones.  Every  instrument,  as  I 
have  just  said,  has  a  characteristic  emotional  tone- 
color.     But  the  emotions  expressed  by  them  are 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      187 

vague  and  indefinite.  A  piece  of  instrumental  mu- 
sic can  express  an  eager,  passionate  yearning  for 
something,  but  it  cannot  tell  what  that  something 
is — whether  it  is  the  ardent  longing  of  an  absent 
lover,  or  the  heavenward  aspiration  of  a  religious 
enthusiast.  The  vocalist,  on  the  other  hand,  can 
clearly  tell  us  the  object  of  that  longing  by  using 
definite  words.  And  by  thus  arousing  reminis- 
cences in  the  hearer's  mind,  and  adding  the  charm 
of  poetry  to  that  of  music,  he  doubles  the  power 
and  impressiveness  of  his  art. 

Now,  a  very  brief  sketch  of  the  history  of  solo 
singing  will  show  that  this  special  advantage  of 
the  human  voice  over  instruments  was,  if  not  en- 
tirely overlooked,  at  least  considered  of  secondary 
importance  in  practice,  until  Gluck  and  Schubert 
laid  the  foundations  for  a  new  style,  in  which  the 
distinctively  vocal  side  of  singing  has  gradually 
become  of  greater  importance  than  the  instrumental 
side  ;  as  we  see  in  the  music-dramas  of  Wagner, 
and  the  Lieder,  or  parlor-songs,  of  Schumann,  Franz, 
Liszt,  and  others. 

Although  folk-song  appears  to  be  as  old  as  the 
human  race,  the  history  of  artistic  song,  or  song 
written  by  professional  composers  for  the  concert 
hall,  can  be  traced  back  only  about  three  centuries. 
Before  that  time  vocal  music  was  generally  poly- 
phonic, that  is,  Ibr   several  voices;  and  a  contra- 


188      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

puntal  style  of  music  had  been  introduced  into 
Italy  from  the  Netherlands,  which  was  so  compli- 
cated and  artificial  that  the  poetic  text  had  no 
chance  whatever  of  asserting  its  rights  and  being 
understood.  Now,  the  modern  opera,  which  was 
originated  about  three  hundred  years  ago  by  a 
number  of  Florentine  amateurs,  although  it  sprang 
from  a  desire  to  revive  the  ancient  Greek  drama,  in 
which  music  was  united  with  poetry,  represents  at 
the  same  time  a  reaction  against  this  unintelligible 
Netherland  style.  The  new  opera  at  first  went  to 
the  opposite  extreme,  making  the  distinct  declama- 
tion of  the  text  its  principal  object  and  neglecting 
vocal  ornamentation,  and  even  melody,  on  purpose. 
The  famous  vocalist  and  teacher,  Caccini,  although 
he  taught  his  pupils  how  to  sing  trills  and  roulades, 
declared  that  they  were  not  essential  to  good  sing- 
ing, but  merely  a  means  of  tickling  the  ear,  and, 
therefore,  generally  to  be  avoided.  He  taught  the 
Italian  singers  how  to  express  the  passions,  and  re- 
produce the  meaning  of  the  words  they  sang — an 
art  which,  according  to  the  Eoman,  Pietro  della 
Valle,  was  not  previously  known  to  them. 

The  dry  declamation  of  the  first  Italian  operas, 
however,  was  not  supported  by  a  sufficiently  rich 
accompaniment  to  be  enjoyable  after  the  first  sense 
of  novelty  had  passed  away  ;  and  even  the  gifted 
Monte verde's  ingenious  innovations  in  instrumental 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      189 

coloring  and  in  the  free  use  of  expressive  discords, 
could  not  ward  off  a  second  reaction,  in  favor  of 
song  pure  and  simple,  which  set  in  with  Scarlatti, 
the  founder  of  the  Neapolitan  school,  whose  first 
opera  was  produced  a  little  over  two  centuries  ago. 
From  this  time  dates  the  supremacy,  in  Italy,  of 
the  bel  canto,  or  beautiful  song,  which,  however, 
gradually  degenerated  into  mere  circus  music  in 
which  every  artistic  aim  was  deliberately  sacrificed 
to  sensuous  tone-revelry  and  agility  of  execution, 
the  voice  being  treated  as  a  mere  instrument,  with- 
out any  regard  for  its  higher  prerogative  of  inter- 
preting poetry  and  heightening  its  effects. 

This  period  of  Italian  song  prevailed  throughout 
Europe  until  the  time  of  Rossini.  And  in  all  the 
annals  of  music  there  is  nothing  quite  so  strange  as 
the  extraordinary  craze  which  existed  during  this 
time  for  the  instrumental  style  of  vocalism.  A  spe- 
cial class  of  singers — the  male  sopranists — was  arti- 
ficially created,  in  order  to  secure  the  most  dazzling 
results  in  brilliant,  ornamental  vocalization.  Vari- 
ous kinds  of  trills,  grace  notes,  runs,  and  other 
species  of  fioriture,  or  vocal  somersaults,  were  in- 
troduced in  every  song,  in  such  profusion  that  the 
song  itself  was  at  last  barely  recognizable  ;  and  this 
kind  of  stuff  the  audiences  of  that  time  applauded 
frantically.  Everybody  has  heard  of  the  vulgar  cir- 
cus tricks  performed  by  the  most  famous  of  the 


190      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

sopranists,  Farinelli — how  at  one  time  he  beat  a  fa- 
mous German  trumpeter  in  prolonging  and  swelling 
his  notes,  and  how,  at  another  time,  he  began  an 
aria  softly,  swelled  it  by  imperceptible  degrees  to 
such  an  astounding  volume,  and  then  decreased  it 
again  in  the  same  way  to  pianissimo,  that  the  pub- 
lic wildly  applauded  him  for  five  minutes.  There- 
upon, Dr.  Burney  relates,  he  began  to  sing  with 
such  amazing  rapidity  that  the  orchestra  found  it 
difficult  to  keep  up  with  him.  Dr.  Dommer  justly 
comments  on  this  story  that,  for  such  racing  with  an 
orchestra,  a  singer  would  be  hissed  to-day  by  musi- 
cal people. 

It  was  not  only  quick  and  animated  songs  that 
were  thus  overloaded  with  meaningless  embroid- 
eries by  the  sopranists  and  the  prima  donnas  that 
followed  them.  Slow  movements,  which  ought  to 
breathe  a  spirit  of  melancholy,  appear  to  have 
been  especially  selected  as  background  for  these 
vocal  fireworks.  I  need  not  dwell  on  the  unnatural- 
ness  of  this  style.  To  run  up  and  down  the  scale 
wildly  and  persistently  in  singing  a  slow  and  sad 
song,  is  as  consistent  as  it  would  be  for  an  orator 
to  grin  and  yodle  while  delivering  a  funeral  oration. 

A  question  might  be  raised  as  to  how  far  the 
great  Italian  composers  are  responsible  for  this 
degradation  of  the  vocal  art  to  the  level  of  the  cir- 
cus.    The  public,  it  might  be  argued,  wanted  the 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      191 

florid  style  of  song ;  and  if  Eossini  and  Donizetti 
had  refused  to  write  in  the  style  admired  by  them, 
they  would  have  been  neglected  in  favor  of  other 
and  less  gifted  composers.  I  do  not  agree  with  this 
reasoning.  Rossini  and  Donizetti  have  revealed 
enough  genius  in  some  of  their  sparkling  melodies 
to  make  it  probable  that,  if  they  had  not  so  often 
stooped  to  the  level  of  a  taste  corrupted  by  the 
sopranists,  they  might  have  raised  the  public  to  a 
higher  standard  of  musical  taste.  Rossini,  in  fact, 
did  introduce  many  reforms  in  Italian  opera.  He 
enriched  the  orchestral  accompaniments,  removed 
some  of  the  superfluous  arias,  and  for  the  first  time 
wrote  leading  solo  parts  for  the  bass — an  innova- 
tion for  which  he  was  violently  attacked,  on  the 
ludicrous  conservative  ground  that  the  bass  could 
only  be  properly  used  as  a  basis  of  harmonies.  But 
Rossini's  greatest  merit  lies  in  this,  that  he  refused 
to  write  for  the  sopranists,  and  would  not  even  let 
them  sing  in  those  of  his  operas  which  were  brought 
out  under  his  own  supervision.  Furthermore,  to 
prevent  the  singers  from  spoiling  his  melodies  with 
their  florid  additions,  "he  supplied  his  own  decora- 
tions, and  made  them  so  elaborate  that  the  most 
skilled  adorner  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  add 
to  them"  (Edwards).  For  thus  emancipating  the 
composers  from  the  tyranny  of  the  singers  Rossini  de- 
serves great  credit,  and  still  greater  honor  is  due  him 


192     ITALIAN  AND  GEEMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

for  having  shown,  in  his  "  William  Tell,"  which  he 
wrote  for  Paris,  and  in  which  he  discarded  the  florid 
style,  that  when  he  did  have  a  public  which  appre- 
ciated simplicity  of  style  and  dramatic  propriety  in 
music,  his  genius  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  It  is  a 
great  pity  that  he  did  not  write  several  more  operas 
in  the  style  of  "  William  Tell,"  for  it  is  the  only  one 
of  his  works  which  has  preserved  a  portion  of  its 
former  popularity  in  Paris  and  elsewhere,  thanks  to 
its  regard  for  dramatic  propriety. 

Like  the  composers,  the  singing  teachers  in  Italy 
consented  to  adapt  their  method  to  the  universal 
clamor  for  decorative,  florid  singing.  The  audiences 
did  not  seem  to  care  at  all  what  was  sung  to  them, 
as  long  as  it  was  sung  with  sensuous  beauty  of  tone, 
and  facility  of  execution  ;  consequently  sensuous 
beauty  of  tone  and  facility  of  execution  were  almost 
the  only  things  that  the  teachers  aimed  at.  This  is 
illustrated  by  an  anecdote  concerning  the  famous 
teacher  Porpora  and  his  pupil  Caffarelli,  which, 
although  doubtless  exaggerated,  nevertheless  de- 
scribes the  situation  graphically.  Porpora,  it  is  re- 
lated, gave  Caffarelli  a  page  of  exercises  to  which  he 
confined  him  for  five  years.  And  at  the  end  of  that 
time  he  exclaimed  :  "  You  have  nothing  more  to 
learn !     Caffarelli  is  the  first  singer  in  the  world  !  " 

As  if  facility  of  execution  or  technical  skill  were 
not  the  mere  beginning  of  vocal  culture — the  fash- 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      193 

ioning  of  the  instrument,  as  it  were,  with  which  the 
singer  must  subsequently  learn  the  higher  arts  of 
expressing  human  emotions  in  tones,  of  phrasing  in- 
telligently, and  of  pronouncing  distinctly,  so  that 
the  poetic  qualities  of  the  text  may  be  appreciated. 

In  looking  over  specimens  of  the  vocal  music  writ- 
ten by  Porpora  and  his  contemporaries,  we  find 
passages  in  which  a  single  syllable  is  extended  over 
one  hundred  and  fifty-eight,  and  even  a  hundred  and 
seventy-five,  notes.  A  more  atrocious  maltreatment 
of  the  text,  and  misconception  of  the  true  function 
of  the  human  voice,  could  not  be  imagined.  As 
Mr.  H.  C.  Deacon  remarks,  "  The  passages  in  much 
of  the  music  of  that  date,  especially  that  of  Por- 
pora, are  really  instrumental  passages.  .  .  .  and 
possessing  but  little  interest  beyond  the  surprise 
that  their  exact  performance  would  create."  People 
did  not  ask  themselves  whether  it  was  worth  while 
for  singers  to  go  through  the  most  arduous  training 
for  five  years,  for  the  sake  of  learning  to  execute 
runs  which  any  fiddler  or  flute-player  could  learn  to 
play  in  a  few  weeks.  Look  at  the  fioriture  which, 
to  this  day,  Mme.  Patti  sings  in  "  Lucia,"  "  Semira- 
mide,"  etc.  She  is  the  only  living  being  who  can 
sing  them  with  absolute  correctness  and  smooth- 
ness. Not  another  singer  can  do  it — whereas  every 
member  of  her  orchestra  can  play  them  at  sight.  Does 
not  this  show,  once  and  for  all,  that  this  style  of 
13 


194     ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

singing  (which  still  has  numerous  admirers)  is  in- 
strumental, is  unvocal,  unsuited  to  the  human  voice, 
and  should  be  abandoned  forever  ?  Kossini  showed 
his  real  opinion  of  it  by  writing  his  best  and  most 
mature  work  in  a  different  style  ;  and  Verdi  has 
done  the  same  in  "Aida"  and  "  Otello,"  in  which 
there  is  hardly  a  trace  of  colorature,  while  the  style 
often  approaches  to  that  of  genuine  dramatic  song. 

The  colorature  or  florid  style,  however,  is  only 
one  of  the  varieties  of  Italian  song.  Side  by  side 
with  it  there  has  always  been  a  charming,  melo- 
dious cantabile,  which  in  the  later  period  of  Italian 
opera  gradually  got  the  ascendency.  This  cantabile  is 
often  of  exquisite  beauty,  and  gives  Italian  and  Ital- 
ianized singers  a  chance  to  show  off  the  mellow 
qualities  of  their  voices  to  the  best  advantage.  The 
very  word  cantabile  emphasizes,  by  antithesis,  the 
unvocal  character  of  the  old  florid  style.  Fioritura 
means  embroidery,  while  cantabile  means  "song- 
like." But  now,  note  how  the  sins  of  one  period  are 
visited  on  the  next.  The  evils  of  the  florid  style  did 
not  terminate  with  its  supremacy.  They  cast  a 
shadow  before,  which  prevented  the  real  nature  of 
human  song  from  being  discovered  even  after  the 
vocal  style  had  become  more  simple  and  rational. 
During  the  period  in  which  the  vocalists  were  in  the 
habit  of  singing  from  a  dozen  to  a  hundred  or  more 
notes  to  a  single  syllable  of  the  text,  they,  as  well  as 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      195 

the  public,  had  become  so  indifferent  to  the  words 
and  their  poetic  meaning,  that  this  habit  could  not 
at  once  be  altered  when  the  cantabile  style  came 
more  into  vogue.  The  singers  continued  to  be  care- 
less in  regard  to  pronunciation  of  the  words,  and 
the  opera  libretti  were  so  very  silly  that  the  pub- 
lic really  did  not  care  whether  the  singers  spoke 
their  words  correctly  and  distinctly  or  not.  Hence 
even  the  cantabile  style  of  Italian  song  continued 
to  be  more  or  less  instrumental  in  character— tell- 
ing the  audience  little  more  about  the  text  than  the 
flute  or  the  violins  told  them  about  it. 

Mrs.  Wodehouse,  in  her  article  on  song  in 
Grove's  "  Dictionary  of  Music  and  Musicians,"  calls 
attention  to  the  injurious  action  of  Italian  opera  on 
the  English  School  by  breeding  indifference  to  the 
text.  "From  Handel's  time  until  a  very  recent 
date,"  she  says,  "  Italian  operas  and  Italian  songs 
reigned  supreme  in  England;  Italian  singers  and 
Italian  teachers  were  masters  of  the  situation  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  others.  And  the  habit  thus  con- 
tracted of  hearing  and  admiring  compositions  in  a 
foreign  and  unknown  tongue,  engendered  in  the 
English  public  a  lamentable  indifference  to  the 
words  of  songs,  which  reacted  with  evil  effect  both 
on  the  composer  and  the  singer.  Concerned  only 
to  please  the  ears  of  his  audience,  the  composer 
neglected  to  wed  his  music  to  words  of  true  poetic 


196     ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

merit ;  and  the  singer  quickly  grew  to  be  careless 
in  his  enunciation.  Of  how  many  singers,  and  even 
of  good  ones,  may  it  not  fairly  be  affirmed  that  at 
the  end  of  the  song  the  audience  has  failed  to 
recognize  its  language  ?  " 

These  remarks  are  quite  as  applicable  to  America 
as  to  England.  We  hear  singers  every  week  to 
whom  we  can  listen  attentively  for  five  minutes 
without  being  able  to  tell  what  language  they  are 
singing  in.  Most  of  these  singers  were  trained  by 
the  Italian  method  :  And  yet  we  are  told  every  day 
that  this  Italian  method,  which  has  so  little  regard 
for  the  distinctively  vocal  side  of  singing,  is  the 
only  true  method  for  the  voice.  It  is  time  to  call 
a  halt  in  this  matter,  time  to  ask  if  the  Italian 
method  is  really  the  one  best  adapted  for  teaching 
pupils  to  sing  in  English.  That  it  is  the  best  and 
only  method  for  singing  in  Italian,  and  for  inter- 
preting the  style  hitherto  cultivated  by  the  Italians, 
no  one  will  deny.  But  whether  it  is  the  proper 
method  for  those  who  wish  to  sing  in  English, 
French,  or  German,  and  to  devote  themselves  to  the 
modern  dramatic  style,  is  quite  another  question, 
which  must  be,  partly  at  least,  answered  in  the 
negative. 

A  careful  examination  of  the  situation,  leaving 
aside  all  national  prejudice,  will  show  us  that  each 
of  the  two  principal  methods,  as  exemplified  by  Ital- 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES     197 

ian  and  German  singers,  has  its  dark  and  its  bright 
side,  and  that  the  cosmopolitan  American  style  of 
the  future  ought  to  try  to  combine  the  advantages 
of  both,  while  avoiding  their  shortcomings.  The 
dark  side  of  Italian  singing  has  been  sufficiently 
dwelt  upon ;  let  us  now  consider  the  bright  side. 

Italy  owes  much  of  her  fame  as  the  cradle  of 
artistic  song  and  "The  Lord's  own  Conservatory," 
to  climatic  and  linguistic  advantages.  Thanks  to 
the  mild  climate,  men  and  women  can  spend  most 
of  their  time  in  the  open  air,  and  their  voices  are 
not  liable  to  be  ruined  by  constantly  passing  from 
a  dry,  overheated  room  into  the  raw  and  chilly  air 
of  the  streets.  The  Italians  are  a  plump  race, 
with  well-developed  muscles,  and  their  vocal  chords 
share  in  the  general  muscular  health  and  develop- 
ment ;  so  that  the  average  voice  in  Italy  has  a  much 
wider  compass  than  in  most  other  countries;  and 
an  unctuous  ease  of  execution  is  readily  acquired. 
Their  language,  again,  favors  Italian  singers  quite 
as  much  as  their  climate.  It  abounds  in  the  most 
sonorous  of  the  vowels,  while  generally  avoiding  the 
difficult  U,  and  the  mixed  vowels  0  and  tJ,  as  well 
as  the  harsh  consonants,  which  are  almost  always 
sacrificed  to  euphony.  And  where  the  language 
hesitates  to  make  this  sacrifice,  the  vocalists  come 
to  the  rescue  and  facilitate  matters  by  arbitrarily 
changing  the  difficult  vowel  or  consonant  into  an 


198      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

easy  one.  In  this  they  are  encouraged  by  the 
teachers,  who  habitually  neglect  the  less  sonorous 
vowels  and  make  their  pupils  sing  all  their  exer- 
cises on  the  easy  vowel  A.  No  wonder,  then,  that 
the  tones  of  an  Italian  singer  commonly  sound 
sweet :  he  makes  them  up  of  nothing  but  pure 
sugar.  Characterization,  dramatic  effect,  variety  of 
emotional  coloring,  are  all  bartered  away  for  sen- 
suous beauty  of  tone ;  and  hence  the  distinctive 
name  for  Italian  singing — bel  canto,  or  beautiful 
song — is  very  aptly  chosen. 

Now,  sensuous  beauty  of  tone  is  a  most  desirable 
thing  in  music.  Wagner's  music,  e.g.,  owes  much  of 
its  tonic  charm  to  his  fine  instinct  for  sensuous  or- 
chestral coloring,  and  Chopin's  works  lose  half  their 
characteristic  beauty  if  played  on  a  poor  piano*  or 
by  one  who  does  not  know  how  to  use  the  pedal  in 
such  a  way  as  to  produce  a  continuous  stream  of  rich 
saturated  sound.  Hence  the  Italians  deserve  full 
credit  for  the  attention  they  bestow  on  sensuous 
beauty  of  tone,  even  if  their  means  of  securing  it 
may  not  always  be  approved.  Nor  does  this  by  any 
means  exhaust  the  catalogue  of  Italian  virtues.  As  a 
rule,  Italian  singers  have  a  better  ear  for  pitch,  breathe 
more  naturally,  and  execute  more  easily  than  Ger- 
man and  French  singers,  whose  guttural  and  nasal 
sounds  they  also  avoid.  The  difference  between  the 
average  Italian  and  German  singers  is  well  brought 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      199 

out  by  Dr.  Hanslick,  in  speaking  of  the  Italian  per- 
formances which  formerly  used  to  alternate  with  the 
German  operas  in  Vienna:  "Most  of  our  Italian 
guests,"  he  says,  "  distinguish  themselves  by  means 
of  the  thorough  command  they  have  over  their  voices, 
which  in  themselves  are  by  no  means  imposing  ;  our 
German  members  by  powerful  voices,  which,  how- 
ever, owing  to  their  insufficient  training,  do  not  pro- 
duce half  the  effect  they  would  if  they  had  been  sub- 
jected to  the  same  amount  of  training.  "With  the 
Italians  great  certainty  and  evenness  throughout 
the  role ;  with  the  Germans  an  unequal  alternation  of 
brilliant  and  mediocre  moments,  which  seems  partly 
accidental " 

It  is  this  element  of  accident  and  uncertainty  that 
lowers  the  value  of  many  German  singers.  Herr 
Niemann,  for  instance,  has  moments — and,  indeed, 
whole  evenings — when  his  voice,  seemingly  rejuve- 
nated, not  only  rises  to  sublime  heights  of  dramatic 
passion,  but  possesses  rare  sensuous  beauty ;  while 
on  other  occasions  the  sound  of  his  voice  is  almost 
unbearable.  Niemann,  of  course,  is  fifty-eight  years 
old,  but  many  of  the  younger  German  singers  too 
often  have  their  bad  quarter-hours  ;  and  even  Lilli 
Lehmann — whom  I  would  rather  hear  for  my  own 
pleasure  than  any  other  singer  now  on  the  stage — 
emits  occasionally  a  disagreeable  guttural  sound. 
Nothing  of  the  sort  in  Mme.  Patti,  whom  Niemann 


200     ITALIAN  AND  GEEMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

no  doubt  is  right  in  pronouncing  the  most  perfect  vo- 
calist, not  only  of  this  period,  but  of  all  times.  I,  for 
my  part,  have  never  cared  much  for  the  bel  canto  as 
such,  because  it  is  so  often  wasted  on  trashy  composi- 
tions. Yet,  when  I  heard  Mme.  Patti  for  the  first  time 
in  New  York,  I  could  not  help  indulging  in  the  fol- 
lowing rhapsody :  "  The  ordinary  epithets  applicable 
to  a  voice,  such  as  sweet,  sympathetic,  flexible,  ex- 
pressive, sound  almost  too  commonplace  to  be  ap- 
plied to  Patti's  voice  at  its  best,  as  it  was  when  she 
sang  the  valse  Ombra  Leggiera  from  '  Dinora,'  and 
'Home,  Sweet  Home.'  Her  voice  has  a  natural 
sensuous  charm  like  a  Cremona  violin,  which  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  listen  to,  irrespective  of  what  she  hap- 
pens to  be  singing.  It  is  a  pleasure,  too,  to  hear 
under  what  perfect  control  she  has  it ;  how,  without 
changing  the  quality  of  the  sound,  she  passes  from  a 
high  to  a  low  note,  from  piano  to  forte,  gradually  or 
suddenly,  and  all  without  the  least  sense  of  effort. 
Indeed  her  notes  are  as  spontaneous  and  natural  as 
those  of  a  nightingale ;  and  this,  combined  with  their 
natural  sweetness  and  purity,  constitutes  their  great 
charm."  A  few  months  later,  when  Patti  gave  one  of 
her  innumerable  farewell  performances,  I  was  again 
forced  to  admit  that  she  is  the  greatest  of  living  lyric 
sopranos,  but  took  the  liberty  to  express  my  convic- 
tion that  "the  charm  of  her  voice  is  almost  as 
purely  sensuous  as  the  beauty  of  a  dewdrop  or  a 


ITALIAN  AND  GEEMAN  VOCAL  STYLES     201 

diamond   reflecting  the   prismatic   colors  of  sun- 
light." 

Patti,  in  a  word,  is  the  incarnation  of  the  Italian 
style.  Her  voice  is  flawless  as  regards  beauty  of 
tone,  and  spontaneity  and  agility  of  execution. 
Moreover,  she  avoids  the  small  vices  common  to 
most  Italian  singers,  such  as  taking  liberties  with 
the  time  and  the  sentiment  of  the  piece  for  the 
sake  of  prolonging  a  trill  or  a  loud  final  high  note, 
and  so  on.  At  an  early  stage  in  her  career  she  fol- 
lowed the  custom  of  the  time,  and  lavished  such  an 
abundance  of  uncalled-for  scales  and  trills  and  ar- 
peggios and  staccatos  on  her  melody,  that  even 
Rossini  entered  a  sarcastic  protest ;  but  in  her  later 
years  she  has  conscientiously  followed  the  indications 
of  the  composers.  At  the  same  time,  she  has  shown 
more  and  more  anxiety  to  win  laurels  as  a  dramatic 
singer.  But  here  the  vocal  style  which  she  has 
exclusively  cultivated  has  proved  an  insuperable  ob- 
stacle. Although  free  from  the  smaller  vices  of  the 
Italian  school,  she  could  not  overcome  the  great  and 
fatal  shortcoming  of  that  school — the  maltreatment 
of  the  poetic  text.  She  could  not  find  the  proper  ac- 
cents required  in  operas  where  the  words  of  the  text 
are  as  important  as  the  melody  itself  ;  and  she  has 
failed  therefore  to  give  satisfaction  even  in  such  works 
as  "  Faust "  and  "  Aida,"  which  are  intermediate  be- 
tween the  old-fashioned  opera  and  the  music-drama 


202     ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

proper.  I  have  been  often  surprised  to  hear  how 
Patti,  so  conscientious  in  other  respects,  slights  her 
texts,  obliterating  consonants  and  altering  vowels 
after  the  fashion  of  the  Italian  school.  Having 
neglected  to  master  the  more  vigorous  vowels  and 
expressive  consonants,  she  cannot  assert  her  art  in 
dramatic  works.  Her  voice,  in  short,  is  merely  an 
instrument.  "  Bird-like  "  is  an  epithet  commonly 
applied  to  it  by  admirers.  Is  this  a  compliment  ?  A 
dubious  one,  in  my  opinion.  The  nightingale's  voice 
is  very  sweet,  no  doubt,  but  it  is  no  better  than  a 
flute.  A  bird  cannot  pronounce  words  and  sing  at 
the  same  time.  The  human  voice  alone  can  do  that 
— can  alone  combine  poetry  and  music,  uniting  the 
advantage  of  both  in  one  effect. 

On  the  other  hand,  have  you  ever  heard  anyone 
compare  the  voices  of  Lehmann,  Materna,  Sucher,  or 
Malten  to  a  bird's  voice  ?  Of  course  not  ;  and  the 
reason  is  obvious.  The  point  of  view  is  different. 
Although  Lilli  Lehmann's  voice  is  almost  as  mellow 
in  timbre  as  Patti's,  and  much  richer  and  warmer, 
we  never  think  of  it  as  a  bird-like  or  vague  instru- 
mental tone,  but  as  a  medium  for  the  expression  of 
definite  dramatic  emotion.  And  herein  lies  the 
chief  difference  between  the  Italian  and  the  German 
schools.  An  Italian  adores  singing  for  its  own  sake, 
a  German  as  a  means  of  definite  emotional  expression. 

Now,  whether  we  look  at  nations  or  at  individuals, 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      203 

we  always  find  that  simple  beauty  of  tone  and  agil- 
ity of  execution  in  artistic  singing  are  appreciated 
sooner  than  emotional  expression  and  dramatic 
characterization.  Hence  it  is  that  the  Italian  school 
came  before  the  German  school.  Even  in  Germany, 
a  few  generations  ago,  the  Italian  school  was  so  pre- 
dominant that  German  composers  of  the  first  rank 
— Gluck,  Weber,  and  Beethoven — found  it  difficult 
to  assert  their  influence  against  it.  In  Vienna,  dur- 
ing the  season  of  1823,  the  Rossini  furore  was  so 
great  that  none  but  Rossini's  operas  were  sung ; 
and  in  Germany  almost  everyone  of  the  three  dozen 
big  and  little  potentates  supported  his  own  Italian 
operatic  company.  To-day  you  look  in  vain  through 
Germany  or  Austria  for  a  single  Italian  company. 
The  few  Italian  operas  that  have  remained  on  the 
repertory  are  sung  in  German  translations  by  Ger- 
man singers,  and  all  of  these  operas  together  hardly 
have  as  many  performances  in  a  year  as  a  single  one 
of  Wagner's. 

Here  is  a  revolution  in  taste  which  may  well  ex- 
cite our  astonishment,  and  arouse  our  curiosity  as  to 
how  it  was  brought  about.  It  was  brought  about 
by  the  courage  and  perseverance  of  a  few  composers 
who,  instead  of  stooping  down  to  the  crude  taste  of 
the  fioriture-loYmg  public,  elevated  that  taste  until 
it  was  able  to  appreciate  the  poetic  and  dramatic 
side  of  music  ;  and  it  was  brought  about  with  the 


204     ITALIAN  AND  GEEMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

assistance  of  German  singers,  notwithstanding  the 
great  disadvantages,  climatic  and  linguistic,  under 
which  these  labor  in  comparison  with  Italian  singers. 
Although  the  Germans  are  a  more  robust  nation 
than  the  Italians,  with  more  powerful  muscles  and 
voices,  their  climate  is  against  them,  leading  to  fre- 
quent throat  troubles  which  endanger  the  beauty  of 
the  voice.  Hence,  the  gift  of  mellow,  supple  song 
does  not  come  to  them  so  spontaneously  as  to  the 
Italians.  About  a  thousand  years  ago,  an  Italian 
compared  the  singing  of  some  German  monks  to  the 
noise  made  by  a  cart  rattling  down  a  frozen  street ; 
and  even  Luther  compared  the  singing  in  cathedrals 
and  monasteries  at  his  time  to  the  "  braying  of  asses." 
At  a  more  recent  period,  Frederick  the  Great,  on 
hearing  of  the  proposed  engagement  of  a  German 
singer,  exclaimed  :  "  What !  hear  a  German  singer ! 
I  should  as  soon  expect  to  derive  pleasure  from  the 
neighing  of  my  horse ! "  Beethoven  knew  that  the 
chief  reason  why  he  could  not  compete  with  Rossini 
on  the  stage  was  the  lack  of  good  German  singers. 
He  often  lamented  the  inferiority  of  the  German  to 
the  Italian  singers,  and  one  day  exclaimed  to  the 
organist  Freudenberg  :  "  We  Germans  have  no  suf- 
ficiently cultivated  singers  for  the  part  of  Leonora  ; 
they  are  too  cold  and  feelingless.  The  Italians  sing 
and  act  with  their  whole  souls."  Nevertheless, 
Beethoven  refused  to  adapt  his  music  to  the  style  of 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      205 

the  Italian  singers — fortunately ;  for,  if  he  had,  it 
would  now  be  as  obsolete  as  most  of  Rossini's  and 
Donizetti's. 

When  Berlioz  made  his  famous  tour  in  Germany, 
matters  had  somewhat  improved,  to  judge  from  the 
following  remarks  in  his  "  A  Travers  Chants :  " 
"  They  say  that  the  Germans  sing  badly  ;  that  may 
seem  true  in  general.  I  will  not  broach  the  ques- 
tion here,  whether  or  not  their  language  is  the  rea- 
son of  it,  and  whether  Mme.  Sontag,  Pischek,  Ti- 
chatschek,  Mile.  Lind,  who  is  almost  a  German,  and 
many  others,  do  not  form  magnificent  exceptions  ; 
but,  upon  the  whole,  German  vocalists  sing,  and  do 
not  howl ;  the  screaming  school  is  not  theirs  ;  they 
make  music."  Nevertheless,  about  the  same  time, 
Liszt  complained  that  a  perfect  training  of  the 
voice  such  as  he  admired  in  Viardot-Garcia,  had 
almost  become  a  legend  of  the  past ;  and  only  eight 
years  ago,  an  excellent  German  critic,  Martin  Pliidde- 
mann,  wrote  that  "  Germany  has  many  good  orches- 
tras and  not  a  few  excellent  pianists,  even  among 
amateurs ;  but  a  city  of  100,000  inhabitants  seldom 
has  ten  vocalists  whose  voices  are  tolerable,  and  of 
these  two  or  three  at  most  deserve  the  name  of  ar- 
tists." 

When  Richard  Wagner  made  his  preparation  for 
the  great  Nibelung  festival  in  1876,  he  had  the  great- 
est difficulty  in  securing  a  sufficient  number  of  com- 


206       ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

petent  interpreters  for  the  different  roles  of  the 
trilogy,  though  he  had  all  the  German  opera  com- 
panies to  choose  from.  His  private  letters  and  es- 
says are  full  of  lamentations  regarding  the  rarity 
of  singers  able  to  interpret,  not  only  his  works,  but 
those  of  Weber,  Gluck,  or  Mozart.  Good  singers, 
he  says  in  one  place,  are  so  rare  that  the  managers 
have  to  pay  their  weight  in  gold  and  jewelry.  But 
the  cause  of  this,  he  continues,  is  not  the  lack  of 
good  voices,  but  their  improper  training  in  the  wrong 
direction.  German  teachers  have  tried  to  adapt 
the  voices  of  their  pupils  to  the  Italian  canto,  which 
is  incompatible  with  the  German  language.  "  Hith- 
erto," he  says  in  another  place,  "  the  voice  has  been 
trained  exclusively  after  the  model  of  Italian  songs ; 
there  was  no  other.  But  the  character  of  Italian 
songs  was  determined  by  the  general  spirit  of  Italian 
music,  which,  in  the  time  of  its  full  bloom,  was  best 
exemplified  by  the  sopranists,  because  the  aim  of 
this  music  was  mere  enjoyment  of  the  senses,  with- 
out any  regard  for  genuine  depth  of  feeling — as  is 
also  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  voice  of  young  man- 
hood, the  tenor  voice,  was  hardly  used  at  all  at  this 
period,  and  later  only  in  a  sopranistic  way,  as  fal- 
setto. Now,  the  spirit  of  modern  music,  under  the 
undisputed  leadership  of  German  genius,  especially 
Beethoven,  has  succeeded  in  first  rising  to  the  true 
dignity  of  art,  by  bringing  within  the  sphere  of  its 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      207 

incomparable  expressiveness,  not  only  what  is  agree- 
able to  the  senses,  but  also  an  energetic  spirituality 
and  emotional  depth."  Evidently,  he  concludes,  a 
singer  trained  in  the  spirit  of  the  old-fashioned, 
merely  sensuous  music,  is  unable  to  cope  with  mod- 
ern dramatic  music,  and  the  result  is  the  failure  and 
premature  collapse  of  so  many  promising  singers, 
who  might  have  become  great  artists  had  they  been 
rationally  instructed. 

Misinformed  or  prejudiced  critics  have  told  us 
countless  times  that  Wagner  assigned  the  voice  a 
secondary  place  in  his  works  because  he  cared  less 
for  it  than  for  the  orchestra,  and  did  not  understand 
its  nature  and  uses.  The  fact  is  that  no  one  can 
read  his  essays,  especially  those  on  Schnorr  von 
Carolsfeld,  and  on  Actors  and  Vocalists,  without  be- 
ing impressed  with  his  unbounded  admiration  for 
the  voice,  and  his  practical  knowledge  of  its  high- 
est functions  and  correct  use.  As  a  vocal  teacher, 
Wagner  has  perhaps  never  had  an  equal.  A  few 
words  from  him  regarding  tone  emission,  breathing, 
or  phrasing,  have  often  sufficed  to  show  to  a  singer 
that  a  passage  which  he  had  considered  unsingable, 
was  really  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world,  if  only  the 
poetic  sense  were  properly  grasped  and  the  breath 
economized.  It  is  difficult  to  realize  how  much  of 
their  art  and  popularity  the  greatest  dramatic 
singers  of  the  period  owe  to  Wagner's  personal  in- 


208      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

struction.  Materna,  Malten,  Brandt,  Tichatschek, 
Schnorr  von  Carolsfeld,  Niemann,  Vogl,  Winkel- 
mann,  Betz,  Scaria,  Reichmann,  and  many  others 
have  had  the  benefit  of  his  advice  ;  and  if  Wagner 
could  have  carried  out  his  plans  of  establishing  a 
college  of  dramatic  singing  at  Bayreuth — a  plan 
which  was  frustrated  by  the  lack  of  funds — the  cause 
of  dramatic  art  would  have  gained  immeasurably. 
We  speak  with  scornful  contempt  of  the  Viennese  of 
a  former  generation,  who  allowed  a  rare  genius  like 
Schubert  to  starve  ;  but  posterity  will  look  back 
with  quite  as  great  astonishment  on  the  sluggish- 
ness of  a  generation  which  did  not  eagerly  accept 
the  offer  of  the  greatest  dramatic  composer  of  all 
times,  to  instruct  gratuitously  a  number  of  pupils 
in  his  own  style  and  those  of  Gluck,  Mozart,  and 
Weber. 

Leaving  out  of  consideration  the  instructions 
which  they  personally  received  from  Wagner,  the 
greatest  dramatic  singers  of  the  time  may  be  re- 
garded as  self-made  men  and  women.  Experience 
taught  them  their  art,  other  teacher  they  had  none  ; 
for  it  is  only  within  a  few  years  that  a  few  teachers 
have  begun  to  realize  that  the  old  methods  of  in- 
struction are  partly  incorrect,  and  partly  insufficient 
for  the  demands  of  contemporary  art.  Such  teachers 
as  Mme.  Viardot-Garcia  and  Mme.  Marchesi  have 
done  much  good,  and  trained  many  excellent  lyrio 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES     209 

vocalists ;  but  Mme.  Marchesi  herself  admits  that 
the  great  demand  to-day  is  for  dramatic,  and  not 
for  lyric,  singers.  Formerly,  it  was  the  bravura 
singer  who  bought  dukedoms  with  his  shekels  ; 
to-day,  with  the  solitary  exception  of  Patti,  it  is  the 
dramatic  soprano  or  tenor  that  gets  from  $500  to 
$1,000  a  night.  When  will  teachers  and  pupils 
wake  up  and  recognize  the  new  situation  ?  When 
will  American  girls  cease  flocking  by  the  hundreds 
to  Milan  to  learn  such  roles  as  Lucia  or  Amina,  for 
which  there  is  now  no  demand,  either  in  Europe  or 
America,  if  we  except  the  wild  Western  audiences  to 
which  Emma  Abbott  caters.  A  good  Elsa  or  Briinn- 
hilde  will  get  an  engagement  ten  times  sooner  than 
a  good  Lucia;  and  young  vocalists  whose  voices 
have  not  sufficient  volume  and  power  to  cope  with 
German  dramatic  music,  will  do  well  to  devote  their 
attention  to  the  better  class  of  French  operas,  for 
which  there  is  a  growing  demand,  as  the  French 
style  has  always  been  much  more  like  the  German 
than  like  the  Italian,  owing  to  the  great  attention 
paid  by  French  composers,  especially  since  the  days 
of  Gluck,  to  vigorous  declamation  and  distinct  enun- 
ciation. Wagner  especially  recommends  the  works 
of  the  older  French  schools  as  a  preparation  for  his 
own  more  difficult  operas. 

Director  Stanton,  of  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House, 
in  New  York,  is  obliged  every  summer  to  make  a 
14 


210      ITALIAN  AND  GEKMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

trip  to  Germany  and  look  about  for  dramatic  singers 
wherewith  to  replenish  his  casts.  As  a  number  of 
American  singers  have  already  won  fame  here  and 
abroad,  the  time  no  doubt  will  come  when  he  will  be 
able  to  find  the  dramatic  singers  he  needs  at  home, 
and  when  opera  in  English  will  have  supplanted  for- 
eign opera,  so  far  as  the  language  is  concerned.  But 
until  that  happy  epoch  arrives  every  aspirant  to  oper- 
atic honors  cannot  be  too  strongly  urged  to  begin  his 
or  her  studies  by  learning  the  French  and  German 
languages.  Almost  all  the  greatest  singers  of  the 
century  have  been  able  not  only  to  sing  but  to  speak 
in  several  languages.  Above  all  things,  students 
of  song  should  learn  to  speak  their  own  language. 
Mr.  H.  C.  Deacon  remarks  that  "  no  nation  in  the 
civilized  world  speaks  its  language  so  abominably 
as  the  English.  .  .  .  Familiar  conversation  is 
carried  on  in  inarticulate  smudges  of  sound  which 
are  allowed  to  pass  current  for  something,  as  worn- 
out  shillings  are  accepted  as  representatives  of 
twelvepence.  .  .  .  When  English  people  begin 
to  study  singing,  they  are  astonished  to  find  that 
they  have  never  learned  to  speak." 

Mr.  Deacon's  strictures  do  not  apply  in  all  their 
force  to  Americans,  for  the  average  American  speaks 
English  more  distinctly  than  the  average  English- 
man ;  yet  there  is  room  for  vast  improvement  in  the 
enunciation  of  our  singers.     Now,  the  great  value 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      211 

of  the  German  style  to  English  students  lies  in  this, 
that  it  emphasizes  above  all  things  the  importance 
of  correct  and  distinct  speech  in  song.  Julius  Hey, 
of  Munich,  who  has  just  published  a  vocal  method 
which  will  mark  an  epoch  in  the  teaching  of  sing- 
ing, devotes  the  whole  of  his  first  volume  to  an 
analysis  of  the  elements  of  speech,  and  to  exercises 
in  speaking.  The  second  and  third  volumes  contain 
vocal  exercises  for  male  and  female  voices,  while  the 
fourth  volume,  which  has  just  appeared,  discusses 
the  special  characteristics  of  the  German  dramatic 
method,  and  gives  detailed  instructions  for  the  de- 
velopment and  training  of  each  variety  of  voice,  to- 
gether with  an  appendix  in  which  some  of  the  most 
popular  operatic  roles  are  analyzed  and  described. 
It  is  a  book  which  no  teacher  or  student  who  wishes 
to  keep  abreast  of  the  times  can  afford  to  be  without. 
Although  Herr  Hey  is  a  disciple  of  Wagner,  he  is 
a  cosmopolitan  admirer  of  all  that  is  good  in  every 
style  of  the  past  and  present.  In  the  elaborate 
scheme  for  the  establishment  of  a  conservatory  in 
Munich  which  Wagner  submitted  to  King  Ludwig, 
he  dwells  on  the  fact  that  every  student  of  song, 
whatever  his  ultimate  aims,  should  be  instructed 
in  Italian  singing,  in  conjunction  with  the  Italian 
language.  Herr  Hey,  too,  admits  that  there  is  no 
branch  of  the  Italian  method  which  the  German 
teachers  can  afford  to  ignore.     In  the  emission  of  a 


212      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

mellow  tone,  the  use  of  the  portamento,  in  the  treat- 
ment of  scales,  of  trills,  and  of  other  ornaments,  and 
in  facile  vocalization  in  general,  all  nations  can  learn 
from  the  Italians.  But  the  Italian  method  does  not 
go  far  enough.  It  does  not  meet  the  demands  of 
the  modern  opera  and  the  modern  music-drama. 
It  delights  too  much  in  comfortable  solfeggios,  in 
linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out,  which  soon  palls 
on  the  senses.  The  modern  romantic  and  dramatic 
spirit  demands  more  characteristic,  more  vigorous, 
more  varied  accents  than  Italian  song  supplies. 
These  dramatic  accents  are  supplied  by  the  German 
method,  and  in  this  chiefly  lies  its  superiority  over 
the  Italian  method. 

Herr  Hey  uses  a  very  happy  comparison  in  trying 
to  show  the  bad  consequences  of  relying  too  much 
on  the  Italian  principles  of  vocal  instruction  which 
have  been  current  until  lately  in  Germany  as  in  all 
other  countries.  Students,  he  says,  are  taught  to 
fence  with  a  little  walking-cane,  and  when  it  comes 
to  the  decisive  battle  they  are  expected  to  wield  a 
heavy  sword.  A  most  happy  illustration  this,  I  re- 
peat, for  it  indicates  exactly  what  vocal  teachers  of 
the  old  school  are  doing.  They  choose  the  easiest 
of  the  vowels  and  the  easiest  melodic  intervals,  and 
make  the  pupils  exercise  on  those  constantly,  ignor- 
ing the  more  difficult  ones ;  and  the  consequence  is, 
that  when,  subsequently,  the  pupils  are  confronted 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      213 

with  difficult  intervals  in  a  dramatic  role,  they  sing 
them  badly  and  make  the  ludicrous  protest  that  the 
composer  "  doesn't  know  how  to  write  for  the  voice ; " 
and  when  they  come  across  difficult  vowels  they 
either  change  them  into  easier  ones,  and  thus  make 
the  text  unintelligible,  or  else  they  emit  a  crude  tone 
because  they  have  never  learned  to  sing  a  sonorous 
U,  I,  or  E  (Latin). 

The  German  principle,  on  the  other  hand,  is  that 
all  vowels  (and  the  German  language  has  a  greater 
number  of  them  than  the  Italian)  must  be  cultivated 
equally,  the  difficult  ones  all  the  more  because  they 
are  difficult.  Herr  Hey  has  found  in  practice  that 
not  only  can  the  vowels  which  at  first  sound  dull  and 
hollow,  like  XJ,  be  made  as  sonorous  as  A  (Ah),  but 
that,  by  practising  on  U,  the  A  itself  is  rendered  more 
sonorous  than  it  can  ever  become  by  exclusive  prac- 
tice on  it  alone.  Not  only  does  the  German  method 
in  this  way  secure  a  greater  variety  of  sonorous 
vowel  sounds,  useful  for  the  expression  of  different 
dramatic  moods,  but  the  registers  are  equalized,  and 
there  is  a  great  gain  in  the  power  and  endurance 
of  the  voice,  which  is  of  immense  importance  to- 
day in  grand  opera. 

Prof.  Stockhausen,  the  distinguished  vocal  teacher, 
recently  remarked  in  the  Frankfurter  Zeitung  that 
"the  mezza  voce  is  the  natural  song,  the  constant 
loud  singing  being  only  a  struggle  with  unequaj 


214      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

weapons  against  our  modern  orchestra."  No  doubt 
he  is  right.  But  the  orchestra  has  become  such  an 
important  factor  in  modern  opera  that  musicians 
would  be  unwilling  to  have  it  reduced  in  size — the 
tendency  being,  in  fact,  the  other  way ;  and  at  the 
same  time  opera  is  such  an  expensive  luxury  that 
it  can  only  be  made  to  pay  in  a  very  large  theatre, 
which  obliges  the  singers  to  have  stentorian  voices. 
Consequently,  the  German  method,  which  develops 
the  power  and  the  sonority  of  the  voice  on  every 
vowel,  is  the  method  of  the  future,  all  the  more  be- 
cause the  English  language,  which  is  the  world 
language  of  the  future,  is  even  more  difficult  for 
vocal  purposes  than  the  German,  and  calls  for  sim- 
ilar treatment. 

In  the  treatment  of  consonants,  the  German 
method  marks  a  still  greater  advance  on  the  Italian 
method.  Professor  Ehrlich  thinks  that  the  reason 
why  Italians  care  so  much  for  melody  and  so  little  for 
harmony  is  because  they  are  too  indolent  to  make 
the  mental  effort  which  is  required  to  follow  a  com- 
plicated harmonic  score.  They  are,  certainly,  too 
lazy  to  pronounce  any  harsh  or  difficult  consonants, 
and  the  Italian  language  therefore  presents  a  picture 
of  sad  effeminate  degeneracy  compared  with  the 
more  vigorous  Latin  and  even  Spanish.  Now  the 
English  language  and  the  English  character  have 
much  more  of  German  vigor  and  masculine  strength 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      215 

than  of  the  Italian  dolcefar  niente :  hence,  the  Eng* 
lish  vocal  style  of  the  future  will  have  to  be  mod- 
elled after  the  German  style,  which,  instead  of 
shirking  difficult  consonants  boldly  tackles  and  util- 
izes them.  It  will  never  be  possible  to  sing  so 
sweetly  in  the  Eaglish  and  German  languages  as  in 
Italian  ;  but  it  is  possible  to  sing  with  much  more 
vigor,  dramatic  definiteness,  and  variety  of  emo- 
tional expression. 

At  the  same  time,  the  harshness  of  the  consonants 
in  German  and  English  song  must  not  be  too  much 
emphasized.  Wagner  has  shown  in  his  music- 
dramas,  and  Hey  in  his  vocal  method,  that  by  means 
of  a  proper  division  of  syllables  and  correct  articu- 
lation, the  harshness  of  consonants  can  be  toned 
down  as  much  as  is  desirable.  On  the  desirability 
and  effectiveness  of  strong  consonants  Liszt  has 
some  admirable  remarks  in  speaking  of  the  Polish 
language,  which  is  noted  for  its  melodious  beauty, 
although  it  bristles  with  consonants  :  "  The  harsh- 
ness of  a  language,"  he  says,  "is  by  no  means  always 
conditioned  by  the  excessive  number  of  consonants, 
but  rather  by  the  way  in  which  they  are  united  ; 
one  might  almost  say  that  the  weak,  cold  color  of 
some  languages  is  due  to  the  lack  of  characteristic 
and  strongly  accented  sounds.  It  is  only  an  unhar- 
monious  combination  of  dissimilar  consonants  that 
offends  a  refined  ear.     The  frequent  return  of  cer- 


216      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

tain  well-united  consonants  gives  shading,  rhythm, 
and  vigor  to  language ;  whereas  the  predominance 
of  vowels  produces  a  certain  pallor  in  the  colora- 
tion, which  needs  the  contrast  of  darker  tints." 

Those  who  are  always  ready  to  insist  on  the  su- 
periority of  the  Italian  language  for  song,  would  do 
well  to  ponder  these  remarks  of  Liszt,  who  knew 
what  he  was  talking  about,  as  he  spoke  a  number  of 
modern  languages  fluently.  And  when  they  have 
done  that,  they  should  procure  a  few  of  Wagner's 
later  vocal  scores  and  note  the  extremely  ingenious 
manner  in  which  he  has  made  the  peculiarities  of 
German  consonants  subservient  to  his  dramatic  pur- 
poses. I  refer  especially  to  his  use  of  alliteration — 
the  repetition  of  a  consonant  in  the  same  or  in  con- 
secutive lines.  This  not  only  insures  a  smooth, 
melodious  flow,  but  enables  the  composer  to 
heighten  the  effect  of  any  situation  by  choosing 
consonants  that  harmonize  with  it.  What,  for  in- 
stance, could  be  more  delightfully  descriptive  than 
the  words  sung  by  the  three  Ehine  daughters  as 
they  merrily  swim  and  gambol  under  the  water  in 
"Rheingold:" 

"Weia!    Waga ! 
Woge,  du  Welle, 
Walle  zur  Wiege ! 
Wagalaweia  ! 
Wallala,  weiala,  weia  !  " 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES     217 

One  need  only  look  at  this,  without  understand- 
ing the  language,  to  feel  the  rhythmic  motion  of  the 
water,  and  imagine  the  song  of  the  merry  maidens. 
Again,  in  the  famous  love  duo  in  the  "  Walkiire,"  note 
the  repetition  of  the  liquid  consonants,  the  l's  and 
m's,  which  give  the  sound  such  a  soft  and  sentimen- 
tal background.  Does  it  not  seem  incredible  that 
the  Italian  operatic  composers  should  have  ignored 
such  poetic  means  of  deepening  the  emotional  color 
of  their  songs  ? 

But  this  is  by  no  means  all.  In  the  same  scene  in 
"  Kheingold  "  to  which  reference  has  just  been  made, 
the  ugly  Nibelung  Alberich  appears  presently  and 
tries  to  catch  one  of  the  lovely  maidens.  But  they 
elude  his  grasp  and  he  angrily  complains  that  he 
slips  and  slides  on  the  slimy  soil.  Note  the  slippery 
character  of  these  sounds  : 

"  Garstig  glatter 
Glitschriger  Glimmer ! 
Wie  Gleit  ich  aus  ! 
Mit  Handen  und  Fussen 
Nicht  f  asse  noch.  halt'ich 
Das  scMecke  Geschlupfer." 

There  is  a  real  Volapiik  for  you— a  world  language 
which  all  can  understand,  for  it  is  onomatopoetic 
realism. 

Of  course  it  is  not  "  beautiful : "  but  is  that  a 


218      ITALIAN  AND  GEEMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

reasonable  objection  ?  What  would  you  say  to  an 
artist  who  painted  dramatic  battle-scenes,  but  made 
all  the  soldiers'  faces  as  pretty  as  he  could  and 
adorned  with  sweet  smiles  ?  That  is  precisely  what 
the  Italian  opera  composers  have  done  in  stage 
music  ;  and  it  is  because  Wagner  taught  the  singer 
to  express  not  only  sweet  sentiments  but  all  dramatic 
emotions,  whether  harsh  or  agreeable,  that  his  new 
style  marks  an  epoch  in  the  evolution  of  the  art  of 
singing.  At  the  same  time,  even  these  harsher  pas- 
sages in  Wagner's  vocal  music  are  not  really  ugly, 
that  is,  disagreeable  to  the  ear,  when  properly  sung. 
Just  as  a  homely  face  becomes  attractive  when  it  ex- 
presses a  vivid  emotion,  so  the  harshest  vocal  meas- 
ures in  the  realistic  music-drama  become  a  source 
of  enjoyment  if  they  are  sung  with  expression. 

Unfortunately,  there  are  only  a  few  artists  as  yet 
who  have  sufficiently  caught  Wagner's  intentions  to 
be  able  to  sing  in  this  manner.  Carl  Hill,  who 
created  the  part  of  the  magician  Klingsor  at  the 
Parsifal  Festival,  in  1882,  was  one  of  these  excep- 
tions. He  reflected  the  spirit  of  the  gruesome  text 
assigned  to  him  so  admirably  that  Wagner  was  de- 
lighted ;  but  afterward  he  complained  that  Hill's 
fine  impersonation  was  not  so  widely  appreciated  as 
it  deserved  to  be  ;  and  why  ?  Apparently,  because 
Klingsor's  melodic  intervals  were  not  pleasing,  nor 
his  sentiments  sympathetic. 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      219 

We  must  conclude  from  this  that,  in  regard  to 
dramatic  singing,  many  opera-goers  are  still  a  good 
deal  like  the  honest  Scotchman  who,  on  his  first 
visit  to  a  theatre,  climbed  on  the  stage  and  admin- 
istered the  villain  of  the  play  a  sound  thrashing  ; 
or,  like  the  Bowery  audiences,  which  applaud  the 
good  man  in  the  play,  no  matter  how  badly  he  acts, 
and  hiss  the  villain,  though  he  be  a  second  Salvini 

Until  operatic  audiences  begin  to  understand  that 
singing  is  commendable  in  proportion  as  it  gives 
realistic  expression,  not  only  to  sweet  and  pleasing 
moods,  but  to  various  kinds  of  dramatic  emotion, 
the  full  grandeur  and  value  of  "Wagner's  vocal  style 
cannot  be  appreciated.  A  real  epicure  does  not 
care  to  eat  cakes  and  candy  all  the  time  ;  he  loves 
olives  and  caviare  too.  These  may  be  acquired 
tastes,  but  all  taste  for  high  art  is  acquired.  And 
the  time  is,  apparently,  not  very  distant  when  Wag- 
ner's realistic  vocal  style  will  no  longer  be  caviare 
even  to  the  public  at  large,  but  will  be  more  enjoyed 
— even  when  it  gives  expression  to  emotions  of 
anger,  jealousy,  and  revenge — than  the  cloying, 
sugar-coated  melodies  of  Bellini  and  Rossini,  or 
those  meaningless  embroideries  which  even  some 
of  the  best  of  the  older  Italians  (Tosi,  for  example) 
regarded  as  the  most  beautiful  part  of  song. 

The  great  enthusiasm  frequently  shown  at  per- 
formances of  Wagner's  operas  in  other  countries  as 


220      ITALIAN  AND  GEEMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

well  as  in  Germany,  seems  to  argue  that  the  public 
at  large  has  already  entered  into  the  real  spirit  and 
meaning  of  the  Wagnerian  style  of  singing.  But 
numerous  experiences  lead  me  to  believe  the  con- 
trary. Allow  me  to  quote,  for  example,  an  extract 
from  one  of  those  letters,  abusive  or  censorious, 
which  musical  editors  receive  almost  daily.  "  Is  it 
not  undeniable,"  writes  a  correspondent,  "  that  as 
long  as  the  world  lasts,  one  of  its  greatest  delights 
will  consist  in  listening  to  the  music  furnished  by 
the  human  voice?  The  more  highly  cultivated, 
pure,  sweet,  and  flexible  the  voice,  the  more  the  en- 
joyment derived.  And  is  it  not  equally  true  that 
Wagner's  style  of  music  discourages  singing  of  this 
sort,  or,  in  fact,  singing  of  any  sort  ?  Are  not  the 
principal  features  of  Wagner's  operas  the  orchestra, 
acting,  and  general  mise-en-schne,  and  does  not  sing- 
ing, pure  and  simple,  have  but  little  part  in  it  ?  " 

If  the  writer  of  these  questions  had  asked  them 
in  Wagner's  presence  I  believe  that  Wagner  would 
have  jumped  up  and  boxed  his  ears.  Nothing  so 
irritated  him  as  this  notion  that  the  singing  in  his 
operas  is  subordinate  to  the  orchestra,  or,  in  other 
words,  that  he  puts  the  statue  in  the  orchestra  and 
the  pedestal  on  the  stage.  As  early  as  1850,  he 
complained  to  Liszt  about  his  friend  Dingelstedt, 
who,  in  his  article  on  the  first  performance  of 
"  Lohengrin,"  had  expressed  a  similar  opinion.    And 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      221 

many  years  later,  in  writing  of  Schnorr  von  Carols- 
feld's  wonderful  impersonation  of  Tristan,  he  begs 
the  reader  to  note  that  the  last  act  of  this  work  con- 
tains "  an  exuberance  of  orchestral  devices,  such  as 
no  simple  instrumental  composer  has  ever  had  occa- 
sion to  call  into  use.  Then  assure  yourself,"  he 
continues,  "that  this  complete  gigantic  orchestra, 
considered  from  an  operatic  point  of  view,  is,  after 
all,  only  related  as  accompaniment  to  the  ■  solo '  part 
represented  by  the  monologue  of  the  vocalist,  who 
lies  on  his  couch ;  and  infer  from  this  the  signifi- 
cance of  Schnorr's  impersonation,  if  I  call  to  witness 
every  conscientious  spectator  at  those  Munich  per- 
formances, that,  from  the  first  bar  to  the  last,  the  at- 
tention and  interest  of  all  was  centred  on  the  vocal- 
ist actor,  was  chained  to  him,  and  never  allowed  a 
single  word  of  the  text  to  escape  through  a  momen- 
tary absence  of  mind  ;  and  that  the  orchestra,  as 
compared  with  the  singer,  completely  disappearedl 
or,  more  correctly  speaking,  seemed  to  be  a  con- 
stituent part  of  his  song." 

I  have  never  had  the  privilege  of  hearing  Schnorr, 
but  I  heard  Scaria  repeatedly  at  Bayreuth  and  Vi- 
enna, and  he  always  impressed  on  me,  in  the  man- 
ner here  described  by  Wagner,  the  supreme  impor- 
tance of  the  vocal  part  in  his  scores.  Not  a  word 
of  the  text  was  lost,  and  in  the  most  difficult  inter- 
vals his  voice  was  always  beautifully  and  smoothly 


222      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

modulated.  He  enabled  me  to  realize  for  the  first 
time,  the  truth  of  what  Wagner  said  regarding  his 
vocal  style,  in  the  following  words  :  "  In  my  operas 
there  is  no  difference  between  phrases  that  are 
•  declaimed  '  and  '  sung,'  but  my  declamation  is  at 
the  same  time  song,  and  my  song  declamation." 
Scaria's  method  also  afforded  an  eloquent  illustra- 
tion of  the  wonderful  manner  in  which,  in  Wagner's 
vocal  style,  the  melodic  accent  always  falls  on  the 
proper  rhetorical  accent  of  each  word  of  the  text, 
which  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  clear  enunciation. 
He  emphasized  important  syllables  by  dwelling  on 
them,  thus  producing  that  dramatic  rubato  which 
Wagner  considered  of  such  great  importance  in  his 
operas  that,  when  he  brought  out  "  Tannhauser  "  in 
Dresden,  he  actually  had  the  words  of  the  text 
copied  into  the  parts  of  all  the  orchestral  players,  in 
order  that  they  might  be  able  to  follow  these  poetic 
licenses  in  the  dramatic  phrasing  of  the  singer. 
This  dramatic  rubato  is,  of  course,  a  very  different 
thing  from  the  freedom  which  Italian  singers  often 
allow  themselves  on  favorable  high  notes,  which  they 
prolong,  not  in  order  to  emphasize  an  emotion  but 
to  show  off  the  beauty  and  sustaining  power  of  their 
voices. 

Scaria,  unfortunately,  was  never  heard  in  opera  in 
this  country.  But  we  have  had  Materna  and  Nie- 
mann and  Brandt  and  Fischer,  and  Alvary  and  Leh- 


ITALIAN  AND  GEEMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      223 

mann,  who  have  given  us  correct  ideas  of  the  Ger- 
man vocal  style.  Surely  no  one  can  say,  on  listen- 
ing to  Lehmann's  BrUnnhilde,  or  Fischer's  Hans 
Sachs,  or  Alvary's  Siegfried,  that  the  vocal  part  is 
inferior  in  beauty  or  importance  to  the  orchestral. 
When  Alvary  sang  Siegfried  for  the  first  time  in 
New  York,  he  presented  a  creditable  but  uneven 
impersonation,  not  having  sufficiently  mastered 
the  details  of  the  acting  to  feel  quite  at  ease,  and 
not  being  able  to  husband  his  vocal  resources  for 
the  grand  duo  at  the  close.  But  at  the  end  of  the  sea- 
son, at  the  eleventh  performance,  he  had  become  a 
full-fledged  Siegfried,  acting  the  part  as  by  instinct, 
while  his  voice  was  as  fresh  at  the  close  of  the  opera 
as  at  the  beginning  :  thus  affording  a  striking  proof 
of  Wagner's  assertion,  that  the  greatest  vocal  dif- 
ficulties of  his  r61es  can  be  readily  mastered  if  the 
singer  will  only  take  the  pains  to  enter  thoroughly 
into  the  spirit  of  the  text  and  the  dramatic  situa- 
tions. Alvary  spent  a  whole  year  in  learning  this 
role,  availing  himself  of  the  hints  given  him  by  Herr 
Seidl,  who  has  the  Wagnerian  traditions  by  heart ; 
and  to-day  he  might,  if  he  felt  so  inclined,  amass 
wealth  and  win  honor  by  travelling  about  Europe 
and  singing  nothing  but  this  one  role.  Vienna  and 
Brussels  made  strenuous  efforts  to  entice  him  away 
from  New  York  after  his  great  success  as  Siegfried. 
This  success  is  the  more  gratifying  and  encour- 


224      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

aging  because,  previously,  he  had  been  only  a 
second-rate  singer.  It  was  his  conscientious  and 
prolonged  study  of  the  German  vocal  style  that 
enabled  him  to  win  his  present  lucrative  and  hon- 
orable position.  If  there  were  a  few  more  young 
singers  like  him  the  operatic  problem  might  be 
considered  solved,  for  it  is  the  rarity  of  well-trained 
singers  that  causes  all  the  financial  embarrassment 
in  our  opera-houses.  They  are  so  scarce,  that  as 
soon  as  one  is  discovered  he  is  hurried  on  the 
stage,  after  a  year's  hasty  preparation,  and  if  his  un- 
trained voice  soon  gives  out — as  it  must  under  the 
circumstances — the  blame  is  laid  on  Wagner's  shoul- 
ders. But,  as  Mme.  Lucca  remarks,  "  neither  Wag- 
ner nor  any  other  composer  spoils  the  voice  of  any 
one  who  knows  how  to  sing."  She  thinks  that  at 
least  six  years  of  faithful  study  are  necessary  to  de- 
velop the  voice  in  accordance  with  artistic  principles. 
Herr  Hey  is  somewhat  more  lenient,  three  years 
of  thorough  training  sufficing,  in  his  opinion,  as  a 
preparation  for  the  stage.  Much,  of  course,  depends 
on  individuals,  and  the  number  of  hours  given  to 
study  every  day.  In  the  old  Italian  vocal  schools, 
two  centuries  ago,  the  pupils  were  kept  busy  six  or 
eight  hours  a  day,  devoting  one  hour  to  difficult 
passages,  another  to  trills  and  to  accuracy  of  intona- 
tion, others  to  expression,  to  counterpoint,  compo- 
sition and  accompaniment,  etc.     They  often  prac- 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES     225 

tised  before  a  mirror  in  order  to  study  the  position 
of  the  soft  parts  in  the  mouth,  and  to  avoid  gri- 
maces ;  and  sometimes  they  sang  at  places  where 
there  was  a  good  echo,  so  as  to  hear  their  own  faults, 
as  if  some  one  else  were  singing.  Yet,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  main  stress  was  laid  on  agility  of  technical 
execution,  whereas  the  modern  German  method, 
without  in  the  least  neglecting  technique,  calls  upon 
pupils  to  devote  more  attention  to  the  principles  of 
soulful  expression  and  dramatic  accentuation.  A 
singer  who  wishes  to  appear  to  advantage  as  Eu- 
ryanthe  or  Lohengrin  or  Tristan  must  not  only  be 
entirely  familiar  with  his  own  vocal  parts  but  he 
ought  to  be  as  familiar  with  the  orchestral  score  as 
the  conductor  himself  :  for,  only  then,  can  he  acquire 
that  ease  which  is  necessary  for  producing  a  deep 
impression.  As  he  has  not  the  conductor's  advan- 
tage of  looking  on  the  printed  score  while  singing, 
he  must  therefore  have  an  excellent  memory.  As 
Dr.  Hanslick  remarks,  "  the  artists  who  sing *■  Tristan 
and  Isolde  '  by  heart,  if  they  do  nothing  more  than 
sing  the  notes  correctly,  deserve  our  most  sincere 
admiration.  That  they  can  do  to-day  what  seemed 
almost  impossible  twenty  years  ago  is  indeed  Wag- 
ner's achievement,  an  achievement  which  has  hardly 
been  noted  hitherto."  Let  me  add  that  in  modern 
German  music,  everything  is  difficult  to  the  singer — 
the  consonants  of  the  language,  the  unusual  intervals 
15 


226      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

and  accents,  the  necessity  of  being  actor  and  singer 
at  the  same  time,  etc.  Hence  we  ought  to  be  chari- 
table and  condone  an  occasional  slip.  But  the  aver- 
age opera-goer  in  this  country  is  anything  but  chari- 
table. If  one  of  these  dramatic  singers,  thus  ham- 
pered by  difficulties,  makes  the  slightest  lapse  from 
tonal  beauty  (which  may  be  even  called  for)  he  is 
judged  as  unmercifully  as  if  he  were  a  representative 
of  the  bet  canto,  whose  art  consists  in  a  mere  voice 
without  emotion — vox  et  prceterea  nihil.  This  is  as 
unfair  as  it  is  to  judge  Wagner's  dramas  by  the 
music  alone,  and  is,  indeed  a  consequence  of  this  at- 
titude. 

It  has  been  too  much  the  habit  in  America  and  in 
England  to  sneer  at  German  singers ;  and  it  is  cus- 
tomary if  a  German  singer  has  a  good  mellow  voice 
to  attribute  that  to  his  Italian  method,  while  his  short- 
comings are  ascribed  to  the  German  method.  This, 
again,  is  as  absurd  as  it  is  unjust ;  for,  as  I  have  en- 
deavored to  show,  the  real  German  method,  by  insist- 
ing on  an  equal  treatment  of  all  the  vowels,  develops 
a  richer  and  more  sonorous  voice  than  the  Italian 
method  ;  and,  indeed,  the  reason  why  powerful  dra- 
matic voices  are  so  rare  among  Italians,  is  because 
of  their  one-sided  preference,  in  their  exercises,  for 
the  easiest  vowels. 

When  Mendelssohn  travelled  in  Italy  he  noted  that 
there  were  very  few  good  singers  at  the  opera-houses, 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      227 

and  that  one  had  to  go  to  London  and  Paris  to  find 
them.  To-day  few  of  them  can  be  found  even  in 
London  and  Paris  ;  and,  indeed,  I  could  easily  show, 
by  giving  lists  of  the  famous  singers  of  the  past  and 
present,  that  the  Italians  constitute  a  small  minority 
as  compared  with  the  German,  French,  and  Scandi- 
navian singers  of  the  first  rank.  The  custom  so  long 
followed  by  singers  of  all  nationalities  of  adopting 
Italian  stage  names  has  confused  the  public  on  the 
subject.  And,  finally,  I  could  name  a  dozen  German 
singers  who  have  won  first-class  honors  in  Italian 
opera  ;  but  where  is  there  an  Italian  Tannhauser  or 
Brunnhilde  or  Wotan?  All  honor,  therefore,  to  the 
versatility  of  German  singers,  who,  like  Lilli  Leh- 
mann,  for  instance,  can  sing  Norma  and  Isolde 
equally  well. 

And  still  more  honor  to  the  German  composers 
who  have  restored  the  true  function  of  song.  Every- 
body knows  that  in  the  popular  songs,  or  folk  songs, 
of  all  nations,  including  the  Italian,  the  words  are 
quite  as  important  as  the  melody.  It  was  only  in 
the  artificial  songs  of  the  Netherland  school  and  the 
Italian  opera  composers  that  the  voice  was  degraded 
to  the  function  of  a  mere  inarticulate  instrument ; 
and  it  remained  for  Wagner,  following  the  prece- 
dence of  Gluck,  to  restore  it  to  its  rank  as  the  in- 
separable companion  of  poetry.  And  what  led  him 
to  do  this  was  not  abstract  reflection  but  artistio 


228      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

instinct  and  experience.  He  does  not  even  claim  the 
honor  of  having  originated  the  true  vocal  style,  but 
confesses  with  pride  that  it  was  a  woman,  Frau 
Schroeder-Devrient,  who  first  revealed  to  him  the 
highest  possibilities  of  dramatic  singing,  and  he 
boasts  that  he  was  the  only  one  that  learned  this 
lesson  of  the  great  German  singer,  and  developed 
the  hints  regarding  the  correct  vocal  style  uncon- 
sciously given  by  her. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten,  however,  that  side  by 
side  with  the  music-drama  and  partly  preceding  it, 
another  form  of  vocal  music  grew  up  in  Germany, 
which  in  a  very  similar  manner  restored  the  voice 
to  its  true  sphere  as  the  wedded  wife  of  poetry.  I 
refer,  of  course,  to  the  Lied,  or  parlor  song,  to 
which,  indeed,  I  might  have  devoted  this  whole 
essay,  quite  as  well  as  to  the  music-drama,  if  there 
were  anything  in  Italian  music  that  might  have  been 
compared  to  the  songs  of  Schubert,  Schumann, 
»Franz,  Brahms,  Liszt,  Rubinstein,  etc. 

As  Sir  George  Grove  poetically  puts  it,  in  Schu- 
bert's songs  U  the  music  changes  with  the  words  as 
a  landscape  does  when  the  sun  and  clouds  pass  over 
it.  And  in  this  Schubert  has  anticipated  Wagner, 
since  the  words  in  which  he  writes  are  as  much  the 
absolute  basis  of  his  songs  as  Wagner's  librettos  are 
of  his  operas."  Liszt,  too,  notes  somewhere  that 
Schubert  doubtless  exerted  an  indirect  influence  on 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES      229 

the  development  of  the  opera  by  means  of  the  dra- 
matic realism  which  characterizes  the  melody  and 
accompaniment  of  his  parlor  songs  (such  as  the  "Erl 
King,"  the  "Doppelganger,"  etc.) — a  realism  which 
becomes  still  more  pronounced  in  Schumann,  Franz, 
and  Liszt,  in  whose  songs  every  word  of  the  poem 
colors  its  bar  of  music  with  its  special  emotional 
tint,  instead  of  merely  serving,  as  in  the  old  bel  canto, 
as  an  artificial  and  meaningless  scaffolding  for  the 
construction  and  execution  of  a  melody. 

This  parallel  evolution  of  the  parlor  song  and  the 
music-drama  cannot  be  too  strongly  emphasized: 
for  the  same  tendency  being  followed  by  so  many  of 
the  greatest  geniuses  (some  of  whom  are  not  Ger- 
mans) affords  cumulative  evidence  of  the  fact  that 
the  German  style  (which,  as  I  have  explained,  in- 
cludes all  that  is  valuable  in  the  Italian  method)  is 
the  true  vocal  style,  the  style  of  the  future,  the 
style  which  cosmopolitan  American  art  will  have  to 
adopt.  I  have  been  told  that  since  the  revival  of 
German  opera  in  New  York,  the  Italian  teachers  in 
the  city  have  lost  many  of  their  pupils.  Obviously, 
if  they  wish  to  regain  them  they  will  have  to  adopt 
the  best  features  of  the  German  method,  just  as  the 
Germans  have  adopted  all  that  is  good  in  the  Ital- 
ian method.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  pupils 
turned  out  by  the  average  vocal  teachers  are  quite 
unable  to  sing  a  Franz  or  even  a  Schubert  song 


230      ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

correctly  and  with  proper  emotional  expression. 
Now,  it  is  evident,  as  Ehlert  says,  that  "  that  art  of 
singing  which  abides  with  the  bel  canto  and  is  un- 
able to  sing  Bach,  Beethoven,  and  Schumann,  has 
not  attained  to  the  height  of  their  period.  It  be- 
comes its  task  to  adapt  itself  to  these  new  circum- 
stances, to  renounce  the  comfortable  solfeggios  and 
acquire  the  poetic  expression  that  they  accept." 

The  famous  tenor  Vogl,  a  contemporary  of  Schu- 
bert, wrote  in  his  diary  the  following  significant 
words :  "  Nothing  shows  so  plainly  the  want  of  a 
good  school  of  singing  as  Schubert's  songs.  Other- 
wise, what  an  enormous  and  universal  effect  must 
have  been  produced  throughout  the  world,  wherever 
the  German  language  is  understood,  by  these  truly 
divine  inspirations,  these  utterances  of  a  musical 
clairvoyance !  How  many  would  have  comprehended, 
probably  for  the  first  time,  the  meaning  of  such  ex- 
pressions as  '  Speech  and  Poetry  in  Music/  '  Words 
in  Harmony/  'ideas  clothed  in  music/  etc.,  and 
would  have  learned  that  the  finest  poems  of  our 
greatest  poets  may  be  enhanced  and  even  trans- 
cended when  translated  into  musical  language." 
It  is  humiliating  to  be  obliged  to  confess  that  good 
schools  of  singing,  the  absence  of  which  Vogl  de- 
plored, are  still  lamentably  rare,  although  he  him- 
self, by  his  example,  did  much  to  develop  the  correct 
method.     We  have  just  seen  how  Wagner  obtained 


ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES        231 

valuable  hints  from  Schroeder-Devrient.  Similarly, 
we  find  that  Schubert  learned  from  his  friend  Vogl, 
who  alone  at  first  could  sing  his  songs  properly,  and 
by  showing  that  they  could  be  sung  encouraged 
Schubert  in  developing  his  original  style. 

It  seems  to  me  that  these  facts  ought  to  be  ex- 
tremely gratifying  and  encouraging  to  students  of 
vocal  music,  because  they  refute  the  notion  that 
vocalists  can  only  be  interpretative  and  not  creative, 
and  their  fame  and  influence,  therefore,  merely  eph- 
emeral. On  the  contrary,  they  can,  like  Vogl  and 
Schroeder-Devrient,  even  aspire  to  guide  composers 
and  help  to  mark  out  new  paths  in  art :  which  surely, 
ought  to  be  more  gratifying  to  their  pride  than  the 
cheap  applause  which  the  sopranists  and  prima 
donnas  of  the  bel  canto  period  used  to  receive  for 
the  meaningless  colorature  arias  which  they  com- 
pelled the  enslaved  composers  to  write,  or  manufac- 
tured for  themselves.  And  there  is  another  way  in 
which  singers  of  the  new  style  can  become  creative. 
Chopin  speaks  in  one  of  his  letters  of  a  violoncellist 
who  played  a  certain  poor  piece  so  remarkably  well 
that  it  actually  appeared  to  be  good  music.  Simi- 
larly, a  good  vocalist  (like  Fraulein  Brandt,  for  in- 
stance, who  is  very  clever  in  this  respect)  can  put  so 
much  art  and  feeling  into  the  weaker  parts  and  epi- 
sodes of  songs  and  operas  as  to  make  them  enter- 
taining where  they  are  naturally  tiresome.     When 


232     ITALIAN  AND  GERMAN  VOCAL  STYLES 

we  bear  in  mind  these  high  possibilities  of  singing, 
we  must  admit  that  there  is  no  nobler  profession 
than  that  of  a  conscientious  vocalist — a  profession 
without  which  some  of  the  deepest  feelings  that  stii 
the  human  soul  would  remain  unknown  to  the  world. 


VI 
GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 


GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

Perhaps  it  is  not  generally  known  that  Mr.  Theo- 
dore Thomas  some  years  ago  entertained  the  pro- 
ject of  reviving  German  opera  in  New  York,  in  a 
manner  that  should  eclipse  all  previous  operatic 
enterprises  in  this  country.  It  was  his  intention  to 
give  in  the  leading  American  cities  a  series  of  per- 
formances of  Wagner's  Nibelung  Tetralogy,  and  he 
looked  forward  to  this  as  the  crowning  achievement 
of  his  busy  life.  For  years  he  never  gave  a  concert 
without  having  at  least  one  Wagner  selection  on 
the  programme,  no  matter  how  much  some  of  the 
critics  and  patrons  protested.  In  1884  he  consid- 
ered the  public  sufficiently  weaned  of  Italian  sweets 
to  stand  a  strong  dose  of  Wagner  ;  so  he  imported 
the  three  leading  singers  of  the  Bayreuth  festivals 
— Materna,  Winkelmann,  and  Scaria — for  a  number 
of  festival  concerts.  The  extraordinary  success  of 
these  concerts  seemed  to  indicate  that  the  time  was 
ripe  for  a  complete  theatrical  production  of  Wag- 
ner's later  music-dramas,  and  Mr.  Thomas  was  al- 
ready elaborating  his  plans  when  an  accident  frus- 


236         GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW   YORK 

trated  them  and  took  the  whole  matter  out  of  his 
hands. 

This  accident  was  the  signal  failure  of  Italian 
opera  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  during  the 
first  season  of  its  existence.  As  Mr.  Abbey  lost  over 
a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars  by  this  disaster,  no 
other  manager  could  be  found  willing  to  take  his 
place  and  risk  another  fortune.  Since  Mr.  Abbey's 
company  included  several  of  the  most  popular  ar- 
tists— Nilsson,  Sembrich,  Scalchi,  Campanini,  Del 
Puente,  etc.,  and  his  repertory  embraced  the  usual 
popular  operas,  the  conclusion  seemed  inevitable 
that  the  public  wanted  a  complete  change.  Dr. 
Damrosch  was  accordingly  appealed  to  at  the  elev- 
enth hour,  and  he  hastened  to  Germany  and 
brought  over  a  company  that  scored  an  immediate 
success,  surprising  even  to  those  who  had  long  ad- 
vocated the  establishment  of  a  German  opera  in 
New  York.  And  this  success  became  still  more 
pronounced  in  the  following  seasons,  when  a  better 
company  was  secured,  with  Herr  Seidl  as  conductor. 

Perhaps  it  is  fortunate  that  Mr.  Thomas's  project 
was  never  realized.  Had  he  succeeded,  New  York 
and  several  other  cities  would  no  doubt  have  en- 
joyed a  series  of  interesting  Wagner  performances 
for  one  or  two  seasons  ;  but  after  the  first  curiosity 
had  been  satisfied,  it  is  very  likely  that  the  enter- 
prise would  have  come  to  an  end  for  lack  of  funds. 


GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK    237 

For  it  is  a  well-established  fact  that  grand  opera,  if 
given  with  the  best  singers,  artistic  scenery,  and  an 
orchestra  of  sixty  to  one  hundred  men,  cannot  be 
made  self-supporting,  however  generously  the  pub- 
lic may  contribute  to  it.  The  Paris  opera  is  kept 
afloat  by  means  of  an  annual  subsidy  of  eight  hun- 
dred thousand  francs,  and  the  imperial  opera-houses 
of  Berlin  and  Vienna,  although  similarly  endowed, 
are  burdened  with  large  annual  deficits  which  have 
to  be  covered  by  additional  contributions  from  the 
imperial  exchequers.  New  York  can  hardly  claim 
so  large  a  public  interested  in  high-class  opera  as 
Vienna  and  Berlin  ;  hence  it  would  be  unreasonable 
to  expect  that  grand  opera  should  fare  better  here. 
It  was,  therefore,  one  of  the  most  lucky  accidents 
in  the  history  of  American  music  that  the  Metro- 
politan Opera  House  was  built,  in  opposition  to  the 
Academy  of  Music,  by  a  number  of  the  richest  peo- 
ple in  New  York,  who  had  made  up  their  minds  to 
spare  no  cost  to  make  it  successful  and  to  annihilate 
the  rival  house.  Having  once  built  the  new  opera- 
house,  it  became  necessary  to  continue  giving  in  it 
the  only  kind  of  opera  adapted  to  the  vast  dimen- 
sions of  its  auditorium,  unless  the  stockholders 
should  become  willing  to  pay  the  high  annual  rent 
without  any  return  at  all.  And  thus  German  opera 
has  been  established  in  New  York,  if  not  for  all 
time,  at  least  for  years  to  come. 


238    GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

The  fact  cannot  be  too  much  emphasized  that, 
properly  speaking,  there  is  no  deficit  at  the  Metro- 
politan Opera  House.  True,  the  total  expenses  of 
the  operatic  season  of  1886-1887  were  about  four 
hundred  and  forty-two  thousand  dollars,  and  the 
receipts  only  two  hundred  and  thirty-five  thousand 
dollars,  thus  necessitating  an  assessment  of  two  thou- 
sand five  hundred  dollars  on  each  stockholder.  But 
it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  this  assessment  simply 
represents  the  sum  that  the  stockholders  paid  for 
their  boxes.  As  there  were  forty-five  subscription 
nights,  and  as  each  box  holds  six  seats,  the  price  of 
each  was  nine  dollars,  which  can  hardly  be  deemed 
too  much  for  the  best  seats  in  the  house,  consider- 
ing that  outsiders  have  to  pay  ten  dollars  for  these 
same  seats,  or  sixty  dollars  for  a  box.  A  large  part 
of  the  assessment  (about  one  thousand  dollars  for 
each  stockholder)  would  remain  for  covering  the 
general  expenses  of  the  building  (including  the 
mortgage  bonds),  even  if  no  opera  were  given  at 
all ;  and  surely  the  box-holders  would  be  foolish  if 
they  refused  to  pay  the  extra  sum  (four  dollars  and 
eighty-eight  cents  for  each  seat),  which  insures  them 
forty-five  evenings  of  social  and  musical  entertain- 
ment. To  persons  of  their  wealth  this  extra  sum 
is,  after  all,  a  mere  trifle ;  and  it  enables  them  to 
bask  in  the  proud  consciousness  of  taking  the  place, 
in  this  country,  of  royalty  abroad  in  supporting  a 


GERMAN   OPERA   IN  NEW  YORK  239 

form  of  art  that  has  always  been  considered  pre- 
eminently aristocratic. 

Some  of  the  stockholders  make  no  secret  of  the 
fact  that  they  would  very  much  prefer  Italian  to 
German  opera,  which  is  Sanskrit  to  them ;  and 
every  year,  at  the  directors'  meetings,  the  question 
of  reviving  Italian  opera  is  warmly  debated.  There 
is  also  a  considerable  number  of  amateurs,  editors, 
and  correspondents  who  are  eagerly  waiting  for 
some  signs  showing  that  German  opera  is  losing 
ground,  so  that  they  may  raise  a  war-whoop  in  be- 
half of  Italian  opera.  But  the  powers  that  rule  the 
destinies  of  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  are  too 
wise  to  heed  the  arguments  of  these  prophets.  They 
know  that  Italian  opera  can  never  again  be  success- 
fully revived  in  New  York,  and  that  the  only  alterna- 
tive for  the  present  lies  between  German  opera  and 
no  opera  at  all.  Signor  Angelo  and  Mr.  Mapleson 
were  as  unsuccessful  in  their  last  efforts  in  behalf  of 
Italian  opera  as  Mr.  Abbey.  And  although  Mme. 
Patti  fared  better  at  her  last  appearance,  it  was  only 
because  a  large  number  of  people  believed  that  she 
really  was  singing  in  New  York  for  the  last  time ; 
for  when  she  returned  a  fortnight  later  for  another 
"farewell,"  the  sale  of  seats  was  so  small  that  the 
spoiled  prima  donna  refused  to  sing,  and  only  one 
performance  was  given  instead  of  two. 

The  lovers  of  vocal  tight-rope  dancing  and  thread- 


240         GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

bare  orchestral  accompaniments  who  insist  that 
Wagner  is  merely  a  fashion,  and  that  ere  long  there 
will  be  a  return  to  the  saccharine  melodies  of  Kos- 
sini  and  Bellini,  show  thereby  that  they  have  never 
studied  the  history  of  the  opera.  This  history 
teaches  a  curious  lesson,  viz.,  that  operas  which  had 
a  great  vogue  at  one  time  and  subsequently  lost 
their  popularity  can  never  be  galvanized  into  real  life 
again.  What  has  become  of  the  threescore  and 
more  operas  of  Donizetti,  and  the  forty  of  Kossini — 
some  of  which  for  years  monopolized  the  stage  so 
completely  the  world  over  that  Weber  and  Beethoven 
were  ignored  even  in  Vienna  and  the  German  capi- 
tals ?  They  are  dead,  and  all  efforts  to  revive  them 
have  been  futile.  These  operas  had  sprung  into 
sudden  popularity,  whereas  "Fidelio,"  "Euryanthe," 
"Lohengrin,"  and  "Tannhauser,"  which  for  years 
had  to  fight  for  every  inch  of  ground,  are  now  mas- 
ters of  the  situation,  and  gaining  in  popularity  every 
year.  And  this  brings  us  to  the  second  lesson  taught 
by  the  history  of  the  opera — that  the  works  that  thus 
had  to  fight  their  way  into  the  hearts  of  the  public 
are  the  immortal  operas  that  are  sure  to  gain  more 
and  more  favor  as  years  go  by.  Moreover,  the 
statistics  of  German  opera-houses  show  that  Wag- 
ner's operas,  from  the  "Flying  Dutchman  "to  the 
"  Nibelung's  Ring,"  have  been  gaining  in  popularity 
and  frequency  of  repetition,  year  by  year,  with  a 


GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK         241 

constancy  that  might  almost  be  expressed  with 
mathematical  exactness  by  means  of  a  crescendo  : 
<.  And  we  are  by  no  means  at  the  biggest  end  of 
the  crescendo  yet.  For  there  are  scores  of  cities 
where  Wagner  would  be  even  more  popular  than  he 
is,  were  it  not  for  the  woful  rarity  of  competent 
dramatic  singers  and  conductors. 

There  is,  therefore,  no  hope  for  the  Italianissimi, 
who  sigh  for  their  maccaroni  arias  and  their  "Er- 
nani "  and  "  Gazza  Ladra  "  soup.  Italian  opera  has 
ceased  to  exist  in  New  York,  Paris,  Berlin,  Vienna, 
and  St.  Petersburg,  and  even  in  Italy  dramatic  music 
of  the  modern  school  is  gradually  driving  out  the 
old-fashioned  lyric  and  florid  opera. 

In  New  York,  moreover,  the  press  is  almost  unan- 
imous in  favor  of  German  opera,  and  the  press, 
as  a  rule,  is  omnipotent  in  theatrical  matters.  I 
am  convinced,  for  instance,  that  one  of  the  principal 
reasons  why  Wagner  was  more  rapidly  acclimated 
in  New  York  than  in  the  German  capitals  is  that 
most  of  the  leading  German  critics  are  old  men — too 
old  to  submit  readily  to  Wagner's  revolutionary  ten- 
dencies ;  whereas  in  New  York  all  the  critics  are 
young  men,  who  only  needed  to  hear  a  few  good 
performances  of  Wagner's  operas  to  be  filled  with 
an  enthusiasm  for  them,  with  which  many  of  their 
readers  could  not  help  being  infected. 

Still  another  important  point  must  be  borne  in 
16 


242    GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

mind  :  the  fact  that  the  vastness  of  the  Metropolitan 
auditorium  makes  it  impossible  to  hear  the  weak 
voices  and  the  thin  scores  of  Italians  to  advantage. 
Ergo,  if  this  house  remains  the  centre  of  music  in 
New  York,  there  can  be  no  question  that,  as  I  have 
just  stated,  the  prospect  for  the  next  decade  or  two 
is,  either  German  Opera  or  No  Opera. 

A  series  of  interviews  published  in  the  news- 
papers indicate  that  the  indifference  of  the  stock- 
holders to  German  music  has  been  greatly  exagger- 
ated ;  and  the  vote  that  was  taken  on  January  27, 
1888,  stood  forty  to  nine  in  favor  of  continuing  Ger- 
man opera,  with  an  assessment  of  three  thousand  two 
hundred  dollars  on  each  box.  Not  a  few  of  the 
stockholders  would,  indeed,  prefer  "  Siegfried  "  to 
"  Ernani,"  even  if  "  Ernani "  could  be  depended  on 
for  as  large  audiences  as  Wagner's  opera,  which  is 
far  from  being  the  case  ;  and  I  have  myself  heard 
some  of  them  confess  that  after  repeatedly  hearing 
Wagner's  later  operas,  they  discovered  in  them  a 
constant  stream  of  melody  where  all  had  seemed  to 
them  at  first  a  mere  chaos  of  sound.  Some  of  the 
stockholders,  on  the  other  hand,  are  so  absolutely 
unmusical  that  they  do  not  know  the  meaning  of 
the  words  "  tenor "  and  "  soprano,"  and  if  blind- 
folded could  not  tell  if  "  Faust "  or  "  Aida"  was  be- 
ing sung.  (This  is  a  real  fact  that  I  might  prove  by 
an  amusing  anecdote,  were  it  not  too  personal.)    Te 


GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW   YORK  243 

this  class  of  stockholders  what  difference  can  it 
make  whether  they  have  German  or  Italian  opera  ? 
They  merely  go  to  the  opera  because  it  is  a  very 
fashionable  thing  to  do  so,  and  because  the  owner- 
ship of  an  opera-box  confers  on  them  a  social  dis- 
tinction almost  equal  to  an  order,  or  a  title  of  nobil- 
ity, in  foreign  countries. 

Many  of  the  stockholders  have  converted  the  ante- 
rooms to  their  boxes  into  luxurious  parlors,  into 
which  they  can  retire  and  talk  if  the  music  bores 
them.  But,  unfortunately,  there  are  some  black 
sheep  among  them  and  their  invited  guests  who  do 
not  make  use  of  this  privilege,  but  give  the  rest  of 
the  audience  the  benefit  of  their  conversational  ac- 
complishments. The  parquet  often  resents  these 
interruptions,  and  hisses  lustily  until  quiet  is  re- 
stored. There  are  not  a  few  lovers  of  music  who, 
although  able  to  pay  for  parquet  seats,  frequent  the 
upper  galleries  for  fear  of  being  annoyed  by  the 
conversation  in  the  boxes.  In  the  highest  gallery 
the  quiet  of  a  tomb  reigns  supreme,  and  woe  to  any 
one  who  comes  late,  or  whispers,  or  turns  the  leaves 
of  his  score  too  noisily  :  he  is  immediately  pierced 
with  a  volley  of  indignant  hisses. 

It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  there  is  much 
less  talking  in  the  opera-house  at  present  than  there 
was  a  few  years  ago.  This  difference  is  especially 
noticeable  on  Wagner  nights,  and  the  change  is 


244         GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW   YORK 

simply  one  of  the  numerous  operatic  reforms  intro. 
duced  by  Wagner  and  his  followers.  It  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  in  Italian  opera  conversation  fre- 
quently is  not  at  all  out  of  place,  but  is  a  factor  of 
the  entertainment  recognized  even  by  the  composer! 
Wagner  brings  out  this  point  clearly  in  the  follow- 
ing remarks:  "In  Italian  opera,"  he  says,  "the 
public  gives  its  attention  only  to  the  most  brilliant 
numbers  sung  by  the  popular  prima  donna  or  her 
vocal  rival ;  the  rest  of  the  opera  it  ignores  almost 
entirely,  and  devotes  the  evening  to  mutual  visits  in 
the  boxes  and  loud  conversation.  This  attitude  of 
the  public  led  the  composers  of  yore  to  confine 
their  efforts  at  artistic  creation  to  the  solo  numbers 
referred  to,  and  to  fill  up  deliberately  all  interme- 
diate portions,  the  choruses  and  minor  parts,  with 
commonplace  and  empty  phrases  that  had  no  other 
purpose  than  that  of  serving  as  noise  to  sustain  the 
conversation  of  the  audience." 

That  this  is  not  an  exaggerated  statement  is 
shown  by  an  extract  from  a  private  letter  written  by 
Liszt  at  Milan.  Speaking  of  the  famous  Scala 
Opera  House,  he  says  :  "  In  this  blessed  land  put- 
ting a  serious  opera  on  the  stage  is  not  at  all  a  seri- 
ous thing.  A  fortnight  is  generally  time  enough. 
The  musicians  of  the  orchestra,  and  the  singers, 
who  are  generally  strangers  to  each  other  and  get 
no  encouragement  from  the  audience  (the  latter  are 


GERMAN   OPERA   IN  NEW   YORK  245 

generally  either  chatting  or  sleeping — in  the  fifth 
box  they  either  sup  or  play  cards),  assemble  inatten- 
tive, insensible,  and  troubled  with  catarrh,  not  as 
artists,  but  as  people  who  are  paid  for  the  music 
they  make.  There  is  nothing  more  icy  than  these 
Italian  representations.  No  trace  of  nuances,  in 
spite  of  the  exaggeration  of  accent  and  gesture  dic- 
tated by  Italian  taste,  much  less  any  effect  d'ensem- 
ble.  Each  artist  thinks  only  of  himself,  without 
troubling  his  thoughts  about  his  neighbor.  Why 
worry  one's  self  for  a  public  that  does  not  even 
listen?" 

In  German  opera,  on  the  other  hand,  the  orches- 
tral part  and  the  choruses  and  declamatory  sections 
are  just  as  important  as  the  lyric  numbers,  and 
many  of  the  most  exquisite  passages  in  the  operas  of 
Weber  and  Wagner  are  a  kind  of  superior  panto- 
mime music  during  which  no  voice  at  all  is  heard 
on  the  stage.  Now  I  am  convinced  that  much  of 
the  talking  in  opera-boxes  is  simply  due  to  igno- 
rance of  this  fact.  Vocal  music  is  much  more  read- 
ily appreciated  than  instrumental  music,  and  those 
who  have  no  ear  for  orchestral  measures  do  not 
realize  that  others  are  enraptured  by  them.  Hence 
they  talk  as  soon  as  the  singing  ceases,  unconscious 
of  the  fact  that  they  are  greatly  annoying  those  who 
wish  to  listen  to  the  orchestra. 

To  a  large  extent  the  stupid  custom  of  having 


246         GERMAN   OPERA   IN  NEW  YORK 

music  between  the  acts  at  theatres  is  responsible 
for  the  talking  at  the  opera.  For  between  the  acts 
everybody,  of  course,  wants  to  talk  ;  and  since  at 
the  theatre  the  orchestra  merely  furnishes  a  sort  of 
background  or  support  for  the  conversation,  people 
naturally  come  to  look  upon  the  overtures  and  inter- 
ludes and  introductions  to  the  second  and  third  acts 
of  an  opera  in  similar  light.  Even  if  entr'acte  music 
in  theatres  were  much  better  than  it  is  commonly, 
this  consideration  alone  ought  to  suffice  to  banish  it 
from  the  theatres.  It  degrades  the  art  and  spoils  the 
public. 

Those  of  the  stockholders  of  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House  who  indulge  in  loud  conversation  while 
the  music  goes  on,  or  who  rent  their  boxes  to  irre- 
sponsible parties,  should  remember  that  it  is  their 
'pecuniary  interest  to  preserve  quiet.  For  not  a  few 
amateurs,  as  already  stated,  are  driven  to  the  cheaper 
parts  of  the  house,  or  discouraged  from  going  at  all, 
by  the  annoying  conversation  ;  and  the  losses  thus 
resulting  are  of  course  added  to  their  annual  assess- 
ments. 

Again,  it  ought  to  be  clear  to  any  one  who  has  the 
most  elementary  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  etiquette 
that  to  disturb  others  needlessly  in  the  enjoyment  of 
a  dearly  purchased  pleasure  is  evidence  of  very  bad 
manners.  Musical  people  suffer  more  from  such 
interruptions  than  persons  whose  ears  are  not  simi- 


GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK  247 

larly  refined  can  imagine ;  for  the  tone  colors  of  a 
Wagnerian  score  are  as  exquisitely  delicate  and  re- 
fined as  the  evanescent  films  and  colors  of  a  soap- 
bubble,  so  that  the  mere  rustling  of  a  fan  or  a  pro- 
gramme mars  them. 

Everybody  has  heard  the  story  of  Handel,  who 
used  to  get  very  angry  if  any  one  talked  in  the 
room,  even  when  he  was  only  giving  lessons  to  the 
Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales.  At  such  times,  as 
Burney  relates,  the  Princess  of  Wales,  with  her  ac- 
customed mildness  and  benignity,  used  to  say  : 
"  Hush  !  hush  !  Handel  is  in  a  passion."  And 
Liszt  never  gave  a  finer  exhibition  of  his  wit  and  ar- 
tistic courage  than  when,  at  an  imperial  soiree  in  the 
Kussian  capital,  he  suddenly  ceased  playing  in  the 
midst  of  a  piece,  because  the  Czar  was  talking  loudly 
with  an  officer.  The  Czar  sent  an  attendant  to  in- 
quire of  Liszt  why  he  stopped  ;  whereupon  Liszt  re- 
torted that  it  was  the  first  rule  of  court  etiquette 
that  when  the  Czar  was  speaking  others  must  be 
silent.  The  Czar  never  forgave  him  this  well-merited 
rebuke. 

This  anecdote  has  a  moral  for  those  who  talk 
loudly  at  the  opera ;  for  it  calls  attention  to  the  fact 
that  they  not  only  annoy  those  of  the  audience  who 
wish  to  hear  the  music,  but  also  insult  the  artists  on 
the  stage. 

The  establishment  of  habitual    silence    during 


248  GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

operatic  performances  is  only  one  of  the  beneficial 
changes  introduced  into  operatic  etiquette  through 
German  opera.  The  method  of  applauding  has 
been  revolutionized  too.  It  is  no  longer  customary 
to  interrupt  the  flow  of  the  orchestral  music  by  ap- 
plauding a  singer.  All  the  applause  is  now  reserved 
for  the  end  of  the  acts.  I  remember  a  performance 
of  "  Lohengrin,"  at  the  Academy  of  Music,  at  which 
the  music  was  thrice  interrupted  by  some  ill-bred 
admirers  of  Campanini,  who  applauded  him  when 
he  first  appeared  in  sight  on  the  swan-boat ;  again, 
when  he  stepped  on  shore,  and  a  third  time  when 
he  came  to  the  front  of  the  stage.  Now  here  was 
one  of  the  most  poetic  scenes  on  the  whole  operatic 
stage  utterly  marred  for  all  refined  listeners,  merely 
for  the  sake  of  showing  admiration  for  a  singer 
which  might  as  well  have  been  expressed  later  on 
when  the  curtain  was  down.  Campanini  recognized 
all  these  interruptions,  and  bowed  his  thanks  to  the 
audience. 

Quite  different  was  Herr  Niemann's  behavior 
when  he  made  his  debut  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House.  Here  was  the  greatest  living  dramatic 
tenor,  an  artist  identified  with  the  cause  and  the 
triumphs  of  Wagner,  appearing  on  a  new  continent^ 
in  the  same  role  that  he  had  created  at  the  historic 
Bayreuth  festival  of  1876.  The  house,  of  course, 
was  packed,  and  included  many  old  admirers  who 


GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK    249 

had  heard  him  abroad,  and  who,  of  course,  received 
him  with  a  volley  of  applause  when  he  staggered 
into  Hunding's  hut.  But  Niemann  did  not  acknowl- 
edge this  applause  with  a  bow  or  even  a  smile.  He 
appeared  before  the  public  as  Siegmund,  and  not  as 
Herr  Niemann.  But  when  the  curtain  was  down  he 
promptly  responded  to  the  enthusiastic  recalls,  and 
was  quite  willing,  and  more  than  willing,  to  come 
forward  as  often  as  the  audience  desired  and  ac- 
knowledge their  kindness  with  bowed  thanks. 

Now,  it  is  to  be  noted  in  this  case  that  Herr  Nie- 
mann did  not  lose  anything  by  refusing  to  recognize 
the  applause  that  greeted  him  when  he  first  appeared 
on  the  stage  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  raised  him  in  the 
estimation  of  all  whose  esteem  was  worth  having  ; 
and  these  applauded  him  all  the  more  vigorously  for 
his  self-denial  when  the  curtain  was  down.  Singers 
of  the  old  school  should  take  this  lesson  to  heart  and 
ponder  it.  They  imagine  success  is  measured  by 
the  number  of  times  they  are  applauded,  and  conse- 
quently introduce  loud,  high  notes  and  other  clap- 
trap at  the  end  of  every  solo,  if  possible.  They  for- 
get that  while  they  thus  secure  the  applause  of  the 
uncultured,  real  connoisseurs  are  disgusted,  and  put 
them  down  in  their  mental  note-books  as  second- 
rate  artists  or  charlatans. 

Those  artists  who  have  followed  Wagner's  pre- 
cepts, and  merged  their  individuality  and  personal 


250*         GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

vanity  in  their  roles,  have  never  had  occasion  to  re- 
gret their  apparent  self-sacrifice.  They  are  the  only 
kind  of  singers  now  eagerly  sought  for  by  managers  ; 
and  an  educated  public  that  does  not  tolerate  ap- 
plause while  the  orchestra  plays,  never  fails  to  vent 
its  pent-up  enthusiasm  at  the  end  of  the  act,  as  has 
been  abundantly  proved  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House.  A  curious  episode  may  be  noted  sometimes. 
As  soon  as  the  singing  has  ceased  and  the  curtain 
begins  to  descend,  a  number  of  people  begin  to  ap- 
plaud. But  the  full-blooded  Wagnerites  wait  until 
the  last  chord  of  the  orchestra  has  died  away  before 
they  join  in.  The  volume  of  applause  is  then  sud- 
denly multiplied  three  or  four  times,  to  the  be- 
wilderment of  novices,  who  do  not  understand  what 
it  all  means.  It  simply  means  that  the  concluding 
strains  of  Wagner's  acts,  are  usually  among  the 
most  beautiful  measures  in  the  whole  opera,  which  it 
is  a  pity  and  a  shame  to  mar  by  premature  applause. 
I  have  often  wondered  why  people,  who  put  on 
their  overcoats  during  the  final  measures,  are  not 
ashamed  thus  to  advertise  their  utter  lack  of  artistic 
sensibility  and  indifference  to  other  people's  feelings. 
Nor  can  one  wonder,  in  view  of  such  facts,  that  the 
late  King  of  Bavaria  preferred  to  have  opera  given 
when  no  other  spectator  was  in  the  house,  or  that 
the  present  Emperor  of  Germany  is  beginning  to 
follow  his  example. 


GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW   YORK  251 

Wagner  does  not  merely  ask  his  interpreters  to 
scorn  the  usual  methods  of  securing  cheap  applause, 
but  he  himself  avoids  them  in  his  compositions  with 
a  heroic  conscientiousness.  There  is  a  story  of  a 
well-known  English  conductor  who  objected  to  pro- 
duce a  piece  by  a  noted  German  composer  because  it 
ended  pianissimo.  He  was  afraid  that  it  would  not  be 
applauded  if  it  did  not  end  loudly.  Now  the  finales 
of  Italian  operas  are  habitually  constructed  on  this 
method.  The  chorus  is  brought  in  at  the  end, 
whether  the  situation  calls  for  it  or  not,  and  made 
to  sing  as  loudly  as  possible.  This  stirs  up  the 
audience  to  equally  loud  applause,  and  all  ends  well. 

How  differently  Wagner  goes  to  work  !  In  "  Sieg- 
fried," for  instance,  there  is  no  chorus  at  all.  The 
first  act  ends  with  Siegfried's  cleaving  of  the  anvil 
with  the  sword  which  he  has  just  forged  before  the 
eyes  of  the  audience  ;  and  the  third  ends  with  the 
love  duo.  In  these  cases  there  are  only  two  persons 
on  the  stage ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  second  act  Sieg- 
fried is  entirely  alone,  and  the  curtain  falls  as  he 
mutely  follows  the  bird  to  the  fire-girdled  rock  on 
which  Brilnnhilde  lies  asleep,  amid  the  intoxicating 
and  promising  strains  of  the  orchestra.  The  end- 
ing of  "Die  Walkure"  is  equally  quiet  and  poetic. 
Wbtan  has  placed  poor  BrUnnhilde  on  a  mound  of 
moss,  for  disobeying  his  orders,  and  covered  her  with 
her  helmet,  after  plunging  her  into  a  magnetic  sleep 


252  GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW   YORK 

which  is  to  last  until  a  hero  shall  come  to  wake  her. 
He  strikes  the  rock  with  his  spear,  whereupon  a 
flame  breaks  out  that  quickly  becomes  a  sea  of  fire 
encircling  the  rock.  Then  he  disappears  in  the  fire 
toward  the  background,  and  for  several  minutes 
there  is  no  one  on  the  stage  but  the  sleeping 
Valkyrie,  and  nothing  to  be  heard  but  the  crackling 
and  roaring  of  the  flames,  re-echoed  in  the  orches- 
tra ;  and  this  is  the  end  of  the  opera. 

One  more  illustration  :  The  greater  part  of  the 
second  act  of  "  Die  Meistersinger  "  is  taken  up  with 
Beckmesser's  serenade,  comically  interrupted  by  the 
songs  and  the  hammering  of  Hans  Sachs  the  cobbler. 
Toward  the  end  the  apprentice  David  sees  Beck- 
messert  and  imagining  he  is  serenading  his  sweet- 
heart, assaults  and  beats  him  most  unmercifully. 
The  noise  attracts  the  neighbors,  who  all  take  part 
in  the  affray,  and  the  scene  culminates  in  a  perfect 
pandemonium  of  noise.  Now  there  is  hardly  an 
operatic  composer  who  would  not  have  closed  the 
act  with  this  exciting  and  tumultuous  chorus.  Not 
so  Wagner.  The  sound  of  the  watchman's  horn 
suddenly  clears  the  street,  and  no  one  is  left  but 
the  watchman  himself,  who  timorously  toddles  up 
the  street  with  his  lantern,  while  the  moon  rises 
above  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  and  the  muted  strings 
of  the  orchestra  softly  and  dreamily  recall  a  few  of 
the  motives  of  the  preceding  scenes.     I  was  sitting 


GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW   YORK  253 

next  to  Professor  Paine,  of  Harvard,  at  a  perform- 
ance of  this  opera  at  the  Metropolitan,  one  evening. 
He  had  not  seen  it  before,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
the  expression  of  surprise  on  his  face  when  he  saw 
the  curtain  descending  on  this  dreamy  moonlight 
scene,  with  a  deserted  stage.  He  considered  it  a 
bold  deviation  from  established  operatic  customs, 
and  yet  he  could  not  for  a  moment  deny  that  it  was 
infinitely  more  poetic  than  the  traditional  final  cho- 
rus, with  its  meaningless  noise  and  pomp. 

Not  that  Wagner  despised  the  chorus,  as  is  some- 
times said.  He  showed  in  the  third  act  of  this  same 
opera,  in  the  scene  of  the  folk-festival,  that  when  a 
chorus  is  called  for  by  the  situation  no  one  can  sup- 
ply a  more  inspired  and  inspiring  volume  of  con- 
certed sound  than  he.  "With  the  possible  exception 
of  the  last  number  in  Bach's  Passion  music,  I  regard 
the  choral  music  of  this  act  as  the  most  sublime 
ever  written.  Here,  at  any  rate,  the  vox  populi  is 
divine. 

The  magnificent  quintet  in  this  act  of  "Die 
Meistersinger "  also  affords  proof  that  if  Wagner 
banished  concerted  music  from  his  later  works,  it 
was  not  because  he  lacked  inspiration  for  that  kind 
of  work.  Although  extremely  Wagnerian  in  its 
harmonies,  it  is  one  of  those  numbers  which  even 
Wagner's  enemies  admire.  Some  years  ago  I  wit- 
nessed a  curious  scene  in  the  Berlin  Opera  House. 


254    GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

According  to  Wagner's  directions,  the  curtain  goea 
down  after  this  quintet,  but  the  music  continues 
until  the  scene  is  changed.  Now,  on  the  occasion 
in  question,  the  quintet  evoked  so  much  enthusiasm 
that  a  storm  of  applause  arose.  The  extreme  Wag- 
nerites  resented  this  interruption  of  the  music,  and 
began  to  hiss  ;  whereupon  the  others  redoubled 
their  applause  and  their  calls  for  an  "encore," 
which  finally  had  to  be  granted,  as  the  only  way  of 
appeasing  this  paradoxical  disturbance  in  which 
Wagnerites  hissed  while  the  others  applauded ! 

At  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  the  stage  ar- 
rangements are  so  clumsy  that  it  is  necessary  to  have 
an  intermission  of  over  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  in 
order  to  change  this  scene.  Consequently  the  last 
and  most  popular  part  of  this  master-work  is  never 
seen  till  after  midnight ;  and  many  leave  the  house 
annoyed  by  the  long  intermission. 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  weakest  part  of  mod- 
ern opera.  It  lasts  too  long.  Wagner  is  not  the 
only  guilty  composer.  Gounod's  "Faust,"  Weber's 
"Euryanthe,"  and  most  of  Meyerbeer's  operas,  if 
given  without  cuts,  would  last  over  four  hours.  But 
in  these  cases  no  irreparable  harm  is  done  by  a  few 
cuts,  whereas  in  Wagner's  operas  there  are  very  few 
bars  that  Can  be  spared,  both  on  account  of  their  in- 
trinsic beauty  and  because  they  are  required  to  keep 
up  the  dramatic  continuity  of  the  story.     Neverthe- 


GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK         255 

less,  Wagner's  operas  must  be  cut,  in  some  cases 
most  unmercifully,  as  in  "Die  Gotterdammerung," 
in  which  Herr  Seidl  was  obliged  to  omit  the  whole 
of  the  first  prelude — rthe  weirdly  grand  scene  of  the 
three  Fates,  and  the  scene  between  the  two  Valkyries 
— merely  to  prevent  the  opera  from  lasting  till  one 
o'clock. 

Herr  Seidl  is  perhaps  the  greatest  living  inter- 
preter of  Wagner.  He  brings  to  his  works  the  en- 
thusiasm without  which  they  can  neither  be  inter- 
preted nor  fully  understood  ;  and  his  enthusiasm 
proves  contagious  to  the  orchestra  and  the  singers. 
He  not  only  rehearses  every  bar  of  the  orchestral 
score  with  minute  care,  but  each  of  the  vocalists  has 
to  come  to  his  room  and  go  through  his  or  her  part 
until  he  is  satisfied.  Although  he  is  invariably  civil, 
his  men  obey  him  as  they  would  the  sternest  general, 
and  admiration  of  his  superior  knowledge  makes 
them  more  attentive  to  their  duty  than  fear  ever 
would.  I  do  not  believe  German  opera  would  have 
won  its  present  popularity  under  any  other  con- 
ductor excepting  Hans  Kichter.  One  of  the  traits 
to  which  he  owes  his  great  success  as  a  Wagner  con- 
ductor is  his  instinctive  perception  of  what  parts  can 
be  omitted  with  the  minimum  of  injury  to  the  work 
he  is  interpreting.  Except  at  Bayreuth,  Wagner's 
later  works  did  not  especially  prosper  at  first,  be- 
cause they  were  either  too  long  or  injudiciously  cut. 


256         GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

Herr  Seidl,  however,  succeeded  with  them  every- 
where. One  time  Wagner  wrote  to  him  complaining 
that  he  made  so  many  cuts  in  his  operas.  But  Herr 
Seidl  wrote  back,  giving  his  reasons,  and  explaining 
the  situation ;  whereupon  he  received  the  laconic 
telegram  from  Wagner,  "  Schiessen  Sie  los  !  "  (Fire 
away !). 

Eduard  von  Hartmann,  in  his  recent  work,  "  Die 
Philosophie  des  Schonen,"  has  some  just  remarks  on 
Wagner's  mistake  in  making  his  operas  so  long  that 
conductors  are  obliged  to  use  the  red  pencil,  which 
is  not  always  done  intelligently  ;  whereas  if  he  him- 
self had  undertaken  the  task  of  condensing  his  works 
their  organic  unity  might  have  been  preserved. 
True,  Wagner  did  not  intend  his  later  works  to  be 
incorporated  in  the  regular  operatic  repertory,  but 
desired  them  to  be  sung  only  on  certain  festal  occa- 
sions, as  at  Bayreuth,  where  people  went  with  the 
sole  object  of  hearing  music,  and  with  no  other  busi- 
ness oppressing  them  for  the  moment.  But  at  a 
time  when  the  struggle  for  existence  is  so  severe  as 
now  it  was  chimerical  on  Wagner's  part  to  hope  that 
such  a  plan  could  be  permanently  realized.  Few 
musical  people  can  afford  to  journey  to  Bayreuth 
merely  to  gratify  their  taste  for  opera.  Hence  the 
Bayreuth  festivals,  although  most  delightful  from  an 
artistic  point  of  view,  would  have  never  been  finan- 
cially successful,  had  not  the  vocalists  given  their 


GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK         257 

services  gratis;  and  it  is  doubtful  if  they  will  be  con- 
tinued after  the  death  of  Wagner's  widow.  More- 
over, it  would  have  been  a  musical  calamity  to  have 
the  treasures  of  melody  and  harmony  that  are  stored 
away  in  the  Nibelung  scores  reserved  for  the  lucky 
few  who  are  able  to  go  to  Bayreuth.  Wagner  him- 
self must  have  felt  this  when,  contrary  to  his  original 
intention,  he  gave  Neumann  permission  to  perform 
the  Tetralogy  (under  Seidl's  direction)  in  Germany, 
Italy,  and  Belgium ;  and  since  that  time  it  has 
been  successfully  incorporated  into  the  repertory 
of  all  the  leading  German  cities,  and  many  smaller 
ones,  such  as  Weimar,  Mannheim,  and  Carlsruhe. 

In  Germany  the  length  of  Wagner's  and  Meyer- 
beer's operas  is  not  so  objectionable  as  here,  because 
there  the  opera  commences  at  seven,  or  even  at  six 
thirty,  and  six,  if  it  is  a  very  long  one  ;  hence  it  is 
all  over  shortly  after  ten,  and  everybody  has  time 
to  take  supper  before  going  to  bed.  But  in  New 
York,  where  it  is  not  customary  to  sup,  and  where 
the  dinner  hour  is  between  six  and  seven,  it  would 
hardly  be  advisable  to  commence  the  opera  before 
eight.  Nor  is  the  interest  in  the  opera  sufficiently 
general  to  inspire  the  hope  that  for  its  sake  any 
change  will  be  made  in  the  hour  of  dining.  The 
danger  rather  lies  the  other  way :  that  the  custom 
of  delaying  dinner  till  eight,  which  is  coming  into 
vogue  among  the  English  (who  care  neither  for 
17 


258         GERMAN  OPERA   IN  NEW  YORK 

music  nor  the  theatre),  will  be  followed  in  this 
city. 

Now  consider  the  inevitable  consequences  of  hav- 
ing excessively  long  operas.  America  has  plenty  of 
poor  loafers,  but  few  wealthy  rentiers  who  spend 
their  days  in  bed  or  in  idleness,  and  are  therefore 
insatiable  in  their  appetite  for  entertainment  in  the 
evening.  The  typical  American  works  hard  all  day 
long,  whether  he  is  rich  or  poor,  and  in  the  evening 
his  brain  is  too  tired  to  follow  for  four  hours  the 
complicated  orchestral  score  of  a  music-drama.  If 
he  listens  attentively,  he  will  be  exhausted  by  eleven 
o'clock,  and  the  last  act,  which  he  might  have  en- 
joyed hugely  if  not  so  "  played  out,"  will  weary  him 
so  much  that  he  will  probably  resolve  to  avoid  the 
opera  in  the  future.  Thus  opera  suffers  in  the  same 
way  that  society  suffers  :  the  late  hour  at  which  all 
entertainments  begin  prevents  the  "  desirable  "  men 
who  have  worked  all  day,  and  must  be  at  their  work 
bright  and  early  the  next  day,  from  attending  parties, 
balls,  and  operas. 

It  must  be  said,  on  the  other  hand,  in  defence  of 
long  German  operas,  that  it  is  only  while  they  are 
novelties  to  the  hearer  that  they  fatigue  his  brain 
beyond  endurance.  After  they  have  been  heard  a 
few  times  they  cease  to  be  a  study  that  calls  for  a 
laborious  concentration  of  the  attention,  and  become 
a  source  of  pure  delight  and  recreation.     The  diffi- 


GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK    259 

culty  lies  in  convincing  people  of  this  fact.  There 
are  in  New  York  hundreds  of  persons,  who,  having 
read  of  the  rare  beauties  of  "  Tristan  "  or  "  Sieg- 
fried," went  to  the  opera  to  hear  and  judge  for  them- 
selves. Of  course,  as  everything  was  new  to  them, 
they  found  it  hard  work  to  follow  all  the  intricacies 
of  the  plot  and  the  music  at  the  same  time  ;  hence, 
their  verdict  next  day  was  that  German  opera  was 
"  too  heavy  "  for  them.  These  persons  cannot  be 
made  to  believe  that  if  they  would  only  repeat  their 
visits,  the  labor  of  listening  would  be  reduced  to  a 
minimum  and  the  pleasure  increased  to  enthusiasm. 
I  know  a  man,  one  of  the  cleverest  writers  for  the 
New  York  press,  a  man  who  can  afford  to  go  to  the 
opera  every  evening,  and  who  does  go  when  Meyer- 
beer's operas  are  given,  but  who  absolutely  and 
stubbornly  refuses  to  attend  a  Wagner  performance 
at  the  Metropolitan.  Why  ?  Because  a  number  of 
years  ago  he  attended  a  wretched  performance  in 
Italian  of  "  Lohengrin  "  which  bored  him !  I  believe 
there  are  many  like  him  in  New  York. 

Mr.  Carl  Rosa,  in  an  article  which  appeared  in 
Murray's  Magazine  a  year  ago,  remarks  on  this  topic  : 
"  An  Englishman,  once  bored  [at  the  opera]  will  with 
difficulty  be  made  to  return  ;  and  this  is  the  reason 
why  light  opera,  opera  bouffe,  and  burlesque  have 
their  advantage  in  this  country.  They  are  so  easy 
to  digest  after  dinner."    And  again  :  "  There  is  no 


260         GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

doubt  that  opera  is,  to  some  extent,  an  acquired 
taste ;  but  the  taste,  once  imparted,  grows  rapidly. 
From  personal  experience  I  know  that  some  of  my 
best  supporters  had  to  be  dragged  to  the  opera  at  first, 
and  induced  to  sit  it  through." 

In  these  remarks  lies  a  valuable  hint  to  the  lovers 
of  German  opera.  The  most  important  thing  to  do, 
if  opera  is  to  be  permanently  retained,  is  to  enlarge 
the  operatic  public.  This  can  only  be  done  by  means 
of  a  concerted  action  of  all  admirers  of  the  opera. 
Let  them  keep  on,  with  "  damnable  iteration,"  to 
drum  into  their  friends'  heads  the  fact  that  if  they  will 
only  make  up  their  minds  to  attend  one  good  opera 
three  or  four  times  in  succession  they  will  become  de- 
voted admirers  of  it  the  rest  of  their  lives.  The 
friends  will  finally  consent,  in  pure  self-defence,  to 
try  the  experiment ;  and  in  three  cases  out  of  four 
they  will  become  converted  and  admit  that  German 
operatic  music  is  indeed  a  thing  of  beauty  and  a  joy 
forever. 

There  is  at  present  in  New  York  a  considerable 
number  of  musical  Mugwumps,  persons  who  formerly 
doted  on  Italian  opera,  but  who  now  find  it  tiresome 
after  hearing  German  opera.  The  distinguished 
English  psychologist,  Mr.  James  Sully,  incidentally 
speaks  of  his  experiences  in  regard  to  Wagner  s 
operas,  in  his  work  on  "Sensation  and  Intuition." 
"Although,"  he  says,  "I  went  to  the  first  perform- 


GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK         261 

ance  decidedly  prejudiced  against  the  noisy  Zu- 
kunftsmusik,  I  found  that  after  patient  study  of  these 
operas  I  became  so  susceptible  of  their  high  dramatic 
beauties  that  I  lost  much  of  my  relish  for  the  older 
Italian  opera,  which  began  to  appear  highly  un- 
natural. I  heard  from  other  cultivated  Germans — 
among  others  from  Professor  Helmholtz — that  they 
had  undergone  quite  a  similar  change  of  opinion 
with  respect  to  these  operas." 

Who,  on  the  other  hand,  has  ever  heard  of  a  rene- 
gade Wagnerite  ?  Such  an  animal  does  not  exist, 
and  if  a  specimen  could  be  found,  it  would  pay  to 
exhibit  him  in  a  dime  museum.  The  very  expression 
seems  a  contradiction  in  terms.  Wagner  frequently 
asserted  that  no  one  could  understand  his  music 
unless  he  admired  it  ;  and  there  is  truth  in  this,  for 
only  enthusiasm  can  sharpen  the  mental  faculties 
sufficiently  to  enable  us  to  perceive  the  countless 
subtle  beauties  in  Wagner's  and  Weber's  scores.  M. 
Saint-Saens,  who  is  considered  the  best  living  score- 
reader,  compares  Wagner's  scores  to  those  master- 
works  of  mediaeval  architecture  which  are  adorned 
with  sculptured  reliefs  that  must  have  required  in- 
finite care  and  labor  in  the  chiselling.  Now,  just 
as  a  careless  observer  of  such  architectural  works 
hardly  notices  the  lovely  figures  sculptured  on  them, 
so  the  average  opera-goer  does  not  hear  the  ex- 
quisite harmonic  and   melodic    miniature-work  in 


262         GERMAN   OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

Wagner's  music-dramas.  But  if  he  has  once  taken 
the  trouble  to  study  them,  he  becomes  an  enthusiast 
for  life  ;  for  he  constantly  discovers  new  and  beau- 
tiful details  which  had  previously  escaped  his  no- 
tice. 

The  eighth  performance  of  "  Siegfried  "  in  New 
York  was  one  of  those  events  that  will  always  live  in 
the  memory  of  those  who  were  so  fortunate  as  to  be 
present.  Everyone  on  the  stage  and  in  the  orchestra 
seemed  to  be  inspired,  and  the  audience  in  conse- 
quence was  electrified.  For  my  part,  although  I  had 
heard  this  music-drama  at  least  a  dozen  times  pre- 
viously, and  knew  every  bar  by  heart,  it  seemed  as 
if  I  had  never  heard  it  before,  so  vividly  were  all  its 
beauties  revealed  in  the  white  heat  of  Conductor 
SeidTs  enthusiasm.  All  the  evening  I  sat  trembling 
with  excitement,  and  could  not  sleep  for  hours 
afterward.  I  have  for  twelve  years  made  a  special 
study  of  the  emotions,  but  I  could  not  conceive  any 
pleasure  more  intense  and  more  prolonged  than  that 
of  listening  to  such  a  music-drama.  Is  not  such  a 
pleasure  worth  cultivating,  even  if  it  involves  some 
toil  at  first?  And  have  not  musical  people  reason  to 
regard  with  profound  pity  those  poor  mortals  who 
can  enjoy  beauty  only  through  the  medium  of  their 
eyes,  their  ears  being  deaf  to  the  charms  of  artisti- 
cally combined  sounds  ? 

At  the  "  Siegfried  "  performance  just  referred  to 


GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK    263 

the  audience  fortunately  was  large  ;  but  there  have 
been  other  performances,  equally  good,  when  the 
audience  was  meagre.  On  such  occasions  much  of 
my  enjoyment  was  marred  by  the  melancholy  thought 
that  such  glorious  music  should  be  wasted  on  empty 
stalls,  when  there  were  thousands  of  persons  in  the 
city  who,  if  they  only  could  have  been  induced  to 
overcome  their  prejudices  and  devote  a  few  hours  of 
previous  study  to  the  libretto  and  the  pianoforte- 
score  of  these  operas,  would  not  only  have  found 
them  entertaining,  but  would  have  enjoyed  them 
rapturously. 

The  essence  and  perennial  charm  of  German  mu- 
sic lies  in  its  melodious  harmony.  Nothing  is  more 
absurd  than  the  notion  that  there  is  more  melody  in 
Italian  than  in  German  music.  The  only  difference 
is  that  in  Italian  music  the  melody  is  more  promi- 
nent, being  unencumbered  by  complicated  harmon- 
ies and  accompaniments,  while  in  German  music  the 
melody  is  interwoven  with  the  various  harmonic 
parts,  which  makes  it  difficult  to  follow  at  first. 
But  when  once  this  gift  has  been  acquired,  it  is  a 
source  of  eternal  pleasure.  Nor  is  it  so  difficult  to 
cultivate  the  harmonic  sense,  if  one  takes  pains  to 
hear  good  music  often  and  attentively.  I  once  met 
a  young  lady  on  a  transatlantic  steamer,  who  frankly 
confessed  she  could  not  see  any  beauty  in  certain 
exquisite  Wagnerian  and  Chopinesque  modulations 


264         GEKMAN  OPEEA  IN  NEW  YOEK 

and  harmonies  which  I  played  for  her  on  the  piano. 
When  asked  if  she  did  not  care  for  harmony  at  all, 
she  replied  :  "  Oh,  yes  !  I  know  a  chord  which  is 
simply  divine !  "  Then  she  played — what  do  you 
fancy  ? — the  simple  major  triad — A  flat  in  the  bass, 
and  A  flat,  C,  E  flat  an  octave  higher — which  is  the 
most  elementary  of  all  chords,  the  very  alphabet  of 
music.  If  she  found  this  commonplace  chord  "  sim- 
ply divine,"  what  would  she  have  said  could  she  have 
been  made  to  realize  that  the  modulations  I  had 
played  were  as  superior  to  her  chord  in  poetic  charm 
as  a  line  of  Shakspere  is  to  the  letters  ABC? 
And  she  could  have  been  made  to  realize  this  truth 
in  a  few  months,  under  proper  instruction. 

I  have  dwelt  so  long  on  this  matter  because  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion,  as  already  stated,  that  the 
greatest  problem  in  connection  with  German  opera 
is  to  enlarge  the  patronage,  and  induce  persons  to 
reserve  their  judgment  of  a  "  heavy  "  opera  until 
they  have  heard  it  two  or  three  times.  They  will 
soon  find  that  the  word  "heavy"  is  a  very  relative 
and  changeable  term  in  music.  To  one  who  really 
admires  Shakspere  and  Homer,  a  fashionable  novel 
is  tedious  beyond  endurance  ;  just  so,  to  one  who 
can  appreciate  "Tristan"  or  "Euryanthe,"  Verdi's 
"Ernani "  and  Bellini's  "  Norma  "are  heavy  as  lead, 
soporific  as  opium. 

The  difficulty  of  understanding  subtle  harmonies 


GERMAN   OPERA   IN   NEW   YORK         265 

is  perhaps  the  main  reason  why  English-speaking 
people  are  so  slow  in  appreciating  and  encouraging 
the  opera.  But  there  are  two  other  important 
reasons  which  may  be  briefly  referred  to — religious 
rigorousness,  and  a  certain  predilection  for  the  or- 
namental style  of  singing. 

No  doubt  there  was  a  time  when  the  stage  was  so 
profligate  that  the  Puritans  were  justified  in  taboo- 
ing it  altogether.  But  that  is  not  now  the  case. 
There  are  many  theatres  where  plays  are  given  that 
are  not  only  pure  in  tone,  bnt  exert  a  refining  and 
educating  influence  on  all  who  hear  them.  And  as 
for  operas,  there  is  hardly  one  in  the  modern  reper- 
tory that  is  open  to  censure  on  moral  grounds.  Mr. 
Carl  Rosa  refers  to  the  curious  fact  that,  when  cir- 
cumstances compel  him  to  give  an  operatic  perform- 
ance in  a  hall  instead  of  a  theatre,  the  audiences  are 
ol  quite  a  distinct  character,  including  many  who 
like  opera,  but  do  not  wish  to  go  to  a  theatre.  Now, 
this  general  condemnation  of  the  theatre  because  it 
is  often  used  for  frivolous  purposes  is  just  as  un- 
reasonable as  it  would  be  to  condemn  and  avoid 
all  novels  because  Zola  writes  novels. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  positive  harm  that  results  from 
the  tabooing  of  the  theatre  by  religious  people. 
Why  is  so  large  a  proportion  of  our  plays  frivolous 
and  vulgar  ?  Because  the  frivolous  and  vulgar  pre- 
dominate among  theatre-goers.   If  the  large  number 


266         GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

of  refined  people  who  avoid  the  theatre  were  to  at- 
tend,  this  proportion  might  be  reversed,  and  more 
of  the  managers  would  find  it  profitable  to  bring 
out  clean  and  wholesome  dramas.  Some  prominent 
clergymen  have  lately  expressed  themselves  in  this 
sense,  and  it  is  probable  that  a  reaction  is  at  hand 
that  will  benefit  the  cause  of  serious  opera.  There 
is  absolutely  nothing  in  any  of  the  operas  given  at 
the  Metropolitan  that  could  not  be  fitly  sung  before 
a  Sunday-school  audience.  Why,  then,  taboo  the 
opera  and  jeopardize  its  existence,  leaving  the  field 
to  the  frivolous  operettas  and  farces  ? 

The  other  obstacle  alluded  to — the  love  of  colora- 
ture  song — is  a  thing  that  will  cure  itself  with  the 
advance  of  musical  culture.  The  Germans  and  the 
French  have  long  since  turned  their  backs  on  the 
florid  variety  of  vocalists,  and  the  Italians  are  now 
following  suit.  An  eminent  Italian  teacher  in  New 
York,  who  has  made  a  specialty  of  teaching  trills  and 
runs  and  roulades  and  other  vocal  circus  tricks, 
lately  declared  that  he  was  tired  of  this  style  of  sing- 
ing, and  began  to  prefer  a  more  simple  and  dramatic 
style.  The  same  is  true  of  the  modern  Italian  com- 
posers. It  is  well  known  that  Bo'ito,  Ponchielli,  and 
Verdi  in  his  latest  operas,  approximate  the  German 
style  ;  and  their  admirers  will  doubtless  ere  long 
adapt  their  taste  to  this  change.  Nevertheless,  there 
are  not  a  few  remaining  who  look  upon  opera  as  a 


GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK    267 

sort  of  vocal  acrobatics.  They  go  once  or  twice  to 
the  Metropolitan,  and  feel  defrauded  of  their  money 
if  the  prima  donna  fails  to  come  forward  to  the 
prompter's  box  to  run  up  some  breakneck  scales, 
and,  having  arrived  at  the  top,  descend  by  means  of 
a  chain  of  trills  or  series  of  somersaults.  Their 
interest  in  music  is  athletic  (feats  of  skill),  not  (Es- 
thetic (artistic  expression  of  emotions).  Yet  these 
people  have  the  impudence  to  say  that  German 
opera  is  "  stupid,"  forgetting  that  their  case  might 
be  analogous  to  that  of  the  drunkard  who  thinks  the 
earth  is  reeling  when  he  is. 

This  class  of  opera-goers  never  tire  of  abusing 
such  singers  as  Fraulein  Brandt  and  Herr  Niemann 
because  their  voices  are  no  longer  as  mellow  as  in 
their  youth,  and  sometimes  weaken  in  a  sustained 
note  or  swerve  for  a  second  from  the  pitch.  Such 
blemishes  are  no  doubt  to  be  regretted,  but  they  are 
a  hundred  times  atoned  for  by  the  passion  and  the 
variety  of  emotional  expression  that  animate  their 
voices,  and  by  their  superb  acting.  Fraulein 
Brandt's  Ortrud.  Eglantine,  and  Fides  will  be  re- 
ferred to  generations  hence  as  models,  as  will  Herr 
Niemann's  Tannhduser,  Siegmund,  Cortez,  Lohengrin, 
Tristan,  etc.  New  Yorkers  must  consider  themselves 
fortunate  in  having  heard  for  two  seasons  the  great- 
est of  Wagnerian  tenors — even  though  he  is  no 
longer  in  his  prime — the  man  who  sang  the  title 


268    GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

rdle  of  "  Tannhauser  "  when  that  opera  was  produced 
in  Paris  in  1861 ;  who  created  the  part  of  Siegmund 
in  1876  at  Bayreuth  ;  and  who,  in  his  way,  has  done 
as  much  to  popularize  Wagner's  operas  as  Liszt  did 
during  the  Weimar  period,  when  people  had  to  go  to 
that  city  to  hear  "  Lohengrin  "  and  "  Tannhauser," 
as  they  now  go  to  Bayreuth  to  hear  "  Parsifal."  He 
is  not  only  valuable  for  the  sake  of  his  artistic  quali- 
ties, but  because  of  his  enthusiasm  for  the  cause  of 
the  best  music.  Wagner  held  him  in  the  highest 
esteem  ;  and  he  wrote  in  his  review  of  the  Bayreuth 
festival  of  1876,  that  without  Niemann's  devotion  and 
ardor  its  success  would  not  have  been  assured.  He 
regretted  subsequently  that  he  did  not  ask  Niemann 
to  create  the  role  of  Siegfried  in  the  last  drama  of 
the  Tetralogy,  as  well  as  that  of  Siegmund  in  the 
second.  Thanks  to  this  mistake,  New  Yorkers  had 
the  privilege  of  hearing  Niemann's  debut  in  this  role 
— at  the  age  of  fifty-seven,  an  age  when  most  tenors 
have  retired  on  their  pensions. 

Three  artists  are  included  in  the  present  company 
at  the  Metropolitan  whom  Mr.  Stanton  could  not 
dispense  with  under  any  circumstances.  One  of 
these  is  Herr  Fischer,  who,  now  that  Scaria  is  no 
more,  is  beyond  comparison  the  finest  dramatic  bass 
on  the  stage.  No  Italian  could  have  a  more  mellow 
and  sonorous  voice,  and  his  method  has  all  the  con- 
scientiousness, passion,  and  distinctness  of  enuncia- 


GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK    269 

tion  that  characterize  the  German  style.  His  Wo- 
tan  and  his  Hans  Sachs,  especially,  are  marvels  of 
operatic  impersonation.  Herr  Alvary,  the  second  of 
the  vocalists  who  unite  Italian  with  German  merits, 
is  a  young  singer  who  has  a  great  future  before 
him,  if  his  Siegfried,  a  most  realistic  and  powerful 
impersonation,  may  be  argued  from.  And  as  for 
the  third  of  these  artists — Lilli  Lehmann — her  equal 
can  hardly  to-day  be  found  on  the  operatic  stage. 
It  is  very  characteristic  of  the  late  Intendant  of  the 
Berlin  theatres — Herr  von  Hiilsen  (who  waited 
nine  years  before  he  accepted  "Lohengrin"  for 
performance,  and  afterward  repeated  the  same 
faux  pas  with  the  Nibelung  Trilogy) — that  he  con- 
fined Fraulein  Lehmann  for  years  to  subordinate 
roles.  Indeed,  although  she  had  acquired  consider- 
able fame  abroad,  it  may  be  said  that  her  real 
career  did  not  begin  till  she  came  to  New  York. 
Here  her  rare  merits  were  at  once  recognized,  and 
instead  of  resting  on  her  laurels,  she  has  grown 
more  admirable  as  an  actress  and  singer  every  year. 
Her  voice  has  a  sensuous  beauty  that  is  matchless, 
and  no  other  prima  donna,  except  Materna,  has 
emotion  in  her  voice  so  deep  and  genuine  as  that 
which  moves  us  in  Lehmann's  Isolde  and  Brttnn- 
hilde. 

She  made  her  debut  in  1866,  at  Prague,  and  ten 
years  later  sang  the  small  roles  of  the  first  Rhine 


270    GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

maiden  and  the  forest  bird  in  "Bheingold"  and 
"  Siegfried,"  at  the  Bayreuth  festival — little  fancy- 
ing, perhaps,  that  she  would  twelve  years  later  be 
the  queen  of  German  opera  in  America.  She  takes 
excellent  care  of  her  voice,  and  never  allows  the 
weather  to  interfere  with  her  daily  walk  of  several 
miles.  Her  versatility  is  extraordinary,  for  she 
sings  Norma  and  Valentine  as  well  as  she  does 
Isolde.  She  scouts  the  idea  that  Wagner's  music 
ruins  the  voice,  agreeing  on  this  point  with  the 
most  famous  vocal  teacher  of  the  day,  Madame  Mar- 
chesi.  It  is  only  when  Wagner's  music  is  sung  to 
excess  that  it  injures  the  voice,  according  to  Frau- 
lein  Lehmann,  because  it  requires  such  extraor- 
dinary power  to  cope  with  the  orchestra.  Here- 
tofore she  has  not  always  succeeded  in  holding  her 
own  against  the  full  orchestra,  but  in  her  latest  and 
greatest  impersonation — Brttnnhilde,  in  "Die  Got- 
terdammerung " — her  voice  rivalled  Materna's  in 
power  without  losing  a  shade  of  its  sensuous  beauty, 
which  is  always  enchanting. 

If  it  were  possible  to  secure  half  a  dozen  more 
singers  like  Lehmann,  Alvary,  and  Fischer,  the 
operatic  problem  might  be  regarded  as  solved.  It 
is  the  scarcity  of  first-class  acting  vocalists  that 
makes  opera  so  expensive,  and  prevents  it  from  be- 
ing self-supporting.  The  number  of  first-class  sing- 
ers is  so  small  that  every  manager  competes  for  them, 


GERMAN   OPERA   IN  NEW   YORK  271 

and  enables  them  to  charge  fancy  prices,  which  are 
ruinous  to  any  manager  who  has  no  government  or 
other  support  to  fall  back  on. 

It  is  a  curious  thing,  this  scarcity  of  good  singers. 
We  read  so  much  about  all  professions  being  over- 
crowded ;  and  yet  here  is  a  profession  in  which 
success  literally  means  millions,  and  yet  so  few  come 
forward  in  it  that  managers  are  at  their  wits*  ends 
what  to  do,  especially  in  the  case  of  tenors.  Herr 
Niemann  obtains  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
for  every  appearance  ;  Fraulein  Lehmann  gets  six 
hundred  dollars,  and  there  are  singers  who  are 
much  better  paid  still  because  they  appear  under 
the  star  system.  Surely  this  ought  to  be  a  sufficient 
bait  to  catch  talented  pupils.  How  many  profes- 
sions are  there  in  which  one  can  make  between  five 
hundred  and  two  thousand  dollars  in  three  or  four 
hours  ? — not  to  speak  of  the  possibility  of  winning 
the  great  prize — Madame  Patti's  four  or  five  thou- 
sand? 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  the  repertory  is  at  fault ; 
but  I  am  convinced  that  if  there  were  plenty  of  good 
singers  in  the  field,  many  of  the  operas  that  were 
formerly  in  vogue  might  be  revived  successfully — 
always  excepting  the  flimsy  productions  of  Bellini 
and  Donizetti.  It  was  formerly  believed  for  years 
that  "  Lohengrin  "  was  the  only  one  of  Wagner's  ear- 
ly operas  that  American  audiences  cared  for.     But 


272  GERMAN  OPERA  IN  NEW  YORK 

"  Tannhauser  has,  in  a  few  years,  become  more  pop* 
ular  than  M  Lohengrin,"  thanks  largely  to  its  better 
staging  and  interpretation.  Owing  in  a  large  meas- 
ure to  Fraulein  Brandt's  Fides  and  Fraulein  Leh- 
mann's  Bertha,  Meyerbeer's  "Prophete"  has  been 
a  success  for  several  years.  Spontini's  "Cortez," 
Weber's  *  Euryanthe,"  Wagner's  "Kienzi,"  and  Beet- 
hoven's "  Fidelio,"  are  among  the  most  interesting 
revivals  during  Mr.  Stanton's  enterprising  regime. 

No  composer,  and  few  poets,  have  ever  inspired 
so  many  artists  to  visualize  their  conceptions  on 
canvas  as  the  poetic  scenes  suggested  in  Wagner's 
dramas.  A  special  exhibition  of  such  pictures 
was  held  in  Vienna  some  years  ago.  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  Wagner's  scenic  backgrounds  are 
as  much  more  artistic  than  those  of  other  opera 
composers  as  his  texts  are  more  poetic  than  theirs. 
He  avoids  frequent  changes,  and  generally  has  only 
three  scenes  for  an  opera.  But  each  of  these,  if  ex- 
ecuted according  to  his  directions,  is  a  masterpiece, 
and  impresses  itself  on  the  memory  like  the  canvas 
of  a  master. 

The  performance  of  the  Trilogy  in  New  York  has 
naturally  revived  among  the  Wagnerites  the  ques- 
tion as  to  which  of  the  master's  works  is  the  greatest. 
Leaving  aside  "  Tristan  "  and  "  Die  Meister singer," 
which  he  never  surpassed,  many  regard  the  first  act 
of  "  Die  Walktire  "  the  most  finished  of  Wagner's 


GERMAN   OPERA  IN   NEW  YORK         273 

creations  ;  and  certainly  it  has  a  marvellously  im- 
pressive climax — Siegmund's  drawing  of  the  sword 
from  the  ash-tree,  and  the  love  duo  which  follows  ; 
and  another  in  Wotan's  farewell  in  Act  HL  But 
grand  as  these  are,  many  consider  the  last  act  of  "  Die 
Gotterdammerung  "  the  supreme  achievement  of 
Wagner.  The  exquisite  trio  of  the  Khine  maidens 
swimming  and  singing  in  a  picturesque  forest 
scene ;  the  death  of  Siegfried,  and  the  procession 
that  slowly  carries  his  body  by  the  light  of  the  moon 
up  the  hill ;  and  the  burning  of  the  funeral  pyre  at 
the  end,  until  it  is  put  out  by  the  rising  waters  of 
the  Khine  bearing  the  maidens  on  the  surface  ;  these 
scenes,  with  the  glorious  music  accompanying,  can- 
not be  matched  by  any  act  of  any  other  opera. 
Nevertheless,  as  a  whole,  "  Siegfried "  is,  in  my 
opinion,  the  grandest  part  of  the  Trilogy.  In  no 
other  work  of  Wagner  is  there  such  a  minute  cor- 
respondence, every  second,  between  the  poetry,  mu- 
sic, and  scenery.  Every  action  and  gesture  on  the 
stage  is  mirrored  in  the  orchestra  ;  and  I  shall  never 
forget  the  remark  made  to  me  in  1876,  at  Bayreuth, 
by  a  musician,  that  in  u  Siegfried  "  we  hear  for  the 
first  time  music  such  as  Nature  herself  would  make 
if  she  had  an  orchestra. 
18 

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ML60.F5 
C037451115 

U.C.  BERKELEY  LIB! 


II 


CDaT^lllS 


DATE  DUE 


Music  Library 

University  of  California  at 
Berkeley 


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